Second Life
by Tara Laurel
Summary: "His heart ripping a hole through his chest, Jack turned around. Bones was on the ground, his eyes blazing behind broken frames, pistol in hand." Jack is missing. The brothers pull out all the stops to find him, until they discover what their baby brother has been up to, and what, or who, he's turned into. Post-Four Brothers. Pre-Death Sentence.
1. Stability

**TITLE: **Second Life

**CHAPTER/TITLE: **Chapter One/Stability

**RATING: **T (language and mature content)

**SUMMARY: "**Jack didn't notice when Joe's vacant expression suddenly shifted. He did notice when the gun cocked. His heart ripping a hole through his already bruised and beaten chest, Jack slowly turned around. Bones was lying on the ground, his eyes now blazing behind broken frames, a pistol nestled in his hands." Jack goes missing. The Mercer brothers pull out all the stops to find him, until they discover what his baby brother has been up to, and what, or who, he's turned into. Post-Four Brothers. Pre-Death Sentence.

**A/N: ** Crossover time! Four Brothers meets Death Sentence. So, yeah, it's been done. But I think this might be a bit different than what you've read before. I tried to put a twist on things. Things are going to get ugly, brotherly, and dark. I will warn you now, you all might hate me by the end of this. I wanted to have a little fun and go against my usual grain. This takes place after the Four Brothers film finishes, but before the Death Sentence storyline begins. I tweaked the Death Sentence plotline quite a bit, but left in a lot as well. You'll understand later. I promise. Sounds crazy now, I know. I hope you enjoy the little nods to the other movies, dialogue, etc from other Hedlund, Wahlberg, etc movies that I sprinkled in. (HINT: The title of this chapter is one of them!) This is very Jack-centric, with some serious Darley boys and Bobby-centric moments. So, buckle up for a hopefully interesting ride. I hope you enjoy my first dabble into the world of crossovers.

**DISCLAIMER: **I do not own Four Brothers or Death Sentence or any of the respective characters. I just "got my love to keep me warm"! Christmas season. My apologies. I own only my love for both films and writing fanfic for you wonderful people.

**Please / Thank you. **

**Read / Review. **

**Left / Right**

**Up / Down**

**Look ^^ A diagonal line! Totally not on purpose! Wow. No more caffeine for me. Good thing I wrote the story long before I am writing this bloated introduction. Enough of my boring blathering. **

**Chapter One: Stability**

_Beep…Beep…Beep…Beep…Beep…_

It was the most beautiful sound Bobby Mercer had ever heard.

_Beep…Beep…Beep_

Its steadiness seeped into his subconscious and stilled his shaking hands. Its fluidity quelled the burning rage inside his stomach. Everything about that seemingly simplistic and trivial noise brought Bobby comfort. It drummed against his head and beat against his heart.

_Beep…Beep…Beep_

More powerful than any speech. More magnificent than any piece of music.

_Beep…Beep_

Bobby had a lot of favorite sounds.

_The rev of an engine…The cock of a gun…The laughter of his mother and brothers…The slicing of skates against ice…The clamor of beer bottles…The ding of the bell of a boxing match…The way a power tool roared and grinded as if alive…The first time Jack spoke his name…The pop of his punch against another man's jaw…The opening notes of Marvin Gaye masterpiece…His mother's singing along with Diana Ross…The subdued strumming from his brother's guitar…Jerry calling and telling him he was a father…Angel's hollering hoot when he accepted the diploma no one except his family imagined he would ever obtain…_

Still, none of them came measurably close to comparing to this.

It wasn't merely the dull droning of a machine. It wasn't simply some soft sound in the background. This singular sound was the most important thing in the entire world.

His baby brother's heart.

Jack's life.

It was all clinging together and singing with that one noise.

It was the only thing reminding Bobby that his brother was even alive.

Jack could have been sleeping for all Bobby knew. With his pale and sallow features, the unconscious form in the hospital bed could have even passed for a corpse.

_Beep._

_ Beep._

_ Beep._

Jack was alive. Barely, but alive nonetheless.

Victor Sweet was buried in the river, and with the guillotine no longer hanging over his family, Bobby spent nearly all of his waking hours focusing on that beeping.

Sometimes Bobby would fill the silence with a hockey game, boxing match or rerun of an action movie. He estimated he had watched Speed and Apocalypse, Now nearly a half dozen times each since Jack was brought in. Never would the volume be loud enough to drown out the sacred sound.

Other times, Bobby would talk to Jack. He told him about the showdown with Sweet. He gave a vivid and comical, and a bit inflated account of the following interrogation. He provided updates on how Jerry and Angel were doing with fixing their mother's house and Bobby and Jerry's vehicles.

And then sometimes, Bobby begged.

He pleaded with Jack to wake up. He implored him to open his eyes. He commanded Jack to move his fingers. Anything. He would do this until the tears came and then would make himself stop, using the mechanic melody of Jack's heart to calm himself.

Jeremiah stopped in every day before and after work. He brought Camille and his daughters every Saturday. Angel tried to be there as much as Bobby, but was working with Jerry now. Sofi came almost whenever Angel did, and then showed up alone quite often, to Bobby's surprise and feigned chagrin. She talked to Jack too, just as the brothers did. She even brought her three sisters, aunt and grandmother with her once. They performed a prayer in Spanish and Sofi's grandmother sent Angel and Jerry home with what looked like a week's supply of home cooked food. A woman who had worked with Evelyn also shocked the brothers with food, words of sorrow and a promised prayer.

Some manager of some record label from some borough of New York began calling Jack's cell phone once every hour one day until Bobby finally answered. He delivered the news to the aggravated man who said to call if Jack wakes up, and then hung right up without question, concern or goodbye.

A few reporters, bloggers, and fans called after that and Bobby stopped answering Jack's phone.

All this chaos was stabilized by the continuous beeping. It was the only thing keeping Bobby sane. The only thing from him stopping his own heart.

_Beep…Beep...Beep._

_ Jack...Jack...Jack._

And then one day, Bobby's stability began to scream. One single, solitary note.

Bobby's entire world crashed into chaos.

Jack had flat lined.


	2. Awakening

**TITLE: **Second Life

**CHAPTER/TITLE: **Chapter Two/ Awakening

**RATING: **T (language and mature content)

**A/N: ** So far, so…Four Brothers. Yeah, yeah, no Darley action yet. Keep your "Spares" shirt on and just be patient! Believe me, you will get your full fill of Chicago soon enough. (Yes Chicago. Books took place in Chicago. So there. Three guesses why I chose it.)

**DISCLAIMER: ** .Nothing. (cries in corner)

**Reviews are to me, what cigarettes are to Jack.**

**Chapter Two: Awakening**

Jack blindly pulled and prodded around him. It was dark. Too dark.

Why wouldn't his eyelids open?

And then there was that noise.

That constant, repeating, shrill sound that was pushing Jack over the edge.

He had to find the assaulting sound's source. He had to stop it.

His fingers found fabric. And then something else. Something thin and hard. He pulled at it and the horrible sound turned to a stretched shriek.

This was worse. Much worse.

Too dark. Too loud.

Where was he?

And why wouldn't his wretched eyes open?

"–ack? Ja –"

Something else was piercing the darkness, louder than the shrieking. Familiar, somehow in this foreign place.

"Jack? Hey – op – stop. Don't – you – calm – Jack! Can I – some fu – help – here? Hello? Some – Jack! Open – eyes! Calm the – down! Stop! Damn – Jack – shit! Open –"

Jack breached the surface of the black void and was met with harsh, white light.

"Jack? Hey! Look at me, Jackie. You're in a hospital. You're safe. You're okay. You need to calm down, Jack. Can you do that?"

Jack lowered his limbs and peeked curiously through now drawn eyelids at the man above him.

Suddenly, there was an entire cluster of faces hovering above his own. The beeping began again. Faster. There were so many faces. So many voices. Too many.

His lids were becoming heavy again. They pulled down over his inquisitive irises. _No!_ _Not the dark. Not again. _He wanted to stay. Why couldn't he stay?

At least the beeping wasn't so erratic and frantic anymore.

The black blanket covered him, crushing him into submission. The voices faded. The beeping ceased. And Jack was gone once more.

"What the fuck did you do?" Bobby barked as a broad shouldered male nurse kept him at bay.

"Don't worry," a doctor responded far too calmly for Bobby's liking, "he'll wake again. Next time it will be gradual. It won't be such a shock to his system, or his mind."

"How do you know he'll wake up again?" Bobby demanded dangerously, yet desperately.

"Trust us," was the doctor's cold reply.

"You might want to have the rest of your family come in before he does though," a tall female nurse with a much more tolerant tone advised. "There are some things that the doctor will need to discuss with all of you."

Bobby didn't hesitate to call his brothers and demand their return to the hospital. Jeremiah brought Angel straight from work. Camille dropped her daughters off with a neighbor and picked up Sofi on her way without question.

They all eagerly took seats in the hallway. That is, all except Bobby. Prying him away from Jack, especially after the brief awakening, was arduous to say the least. Finally, they were gathered, Bobby standing and facing his baby brother's room. Half his attention was apathetically granted to the doctor, while the other half was fixed on that door. The doctor pretended not to notice. He also selectively ignored the non-family member in the group and the guns two of the three brothers carried casually in their waistbands. He had quickly learned rules or policy or convention meant little to the Mercers.

"As you all were informed when Jack was first brought in, there was the possibility of some level of brain damage due to the amount of time his brain was deprived of oxygen. Also, as I said before, we will not know the extent of this damage until he wakes, again."

"What the hell are you sayin', doc?" Angel leaned forward.

"I am saying that you need to be ready."

"Ready for what?" Jerry's tone was far less threatening.

"I am afraid a number of things," the doctor responded rather ominously, or maybe it was lethargically. "He might be slow to thought or speech, so you will need to be patient. There is also the possibility of memory loss."

"What?" Bobby's focus flashed to the doctor.

"It could be small things, like forgetting certain words or patterns of speech. It could be dates, like what he did for Christmas last year or someone's birthday. He might not recall what happened to him. His entire memory might be set back quite a bit. And then there are more serious cases."

"How serious?" Bobby hissed.

The answer was never given as a nurse emerged from Jack's room in just that moment. All eyes were on her as she anxiously approached the man.

"Doctor Gibson, we have a problem."


	3. Missing

**TITLE: **Second Life

**CHAPTER/TITLE: **Chapter Three/ Missing

**RATING: **T (language and mature content)

**A/N: ** You guys are amazing! Thanks to ALL of you for the reads, reviews, follows and favorites! I am apprehensive with this story, so I like to hear what you all are thinking! I looked at my inbox the other day and squealed a bit on the inside. Thank you! Now…on with the story….dun dun dun….

**DISCLAIMER: **I own only my love for you amazing people.

**Reviews are to me, what tree houses are to Jerry.**

**Chapter Three: Missing**

"Missing?" Bobby's voice boomed throughout the halls. "What the fuck do you mean, 'missing'? This is a fucking hospital –"

"Bobby," Jeremiah pushed his brother back from pouncing on the hyperventilating doctor.

"He wasn't moved to another room and his chart is still –"

"Where is he?" Bobby demanded dangerously.

"He might have awoken before we anticipated," Dr. Gibson explained nervously. "He could have been confused. As I said before, he may be having trouble remembering. In his current condition, it is doubtful that he could have gotten far. We should find him shortly. I can assure you that we have security already doing a full sweep of the building."

"I'll do my own fucking sweep," Bobby bit off and shoved savagely past the man.

He descended quickly upon the officer that was now posted at his brother's door. Apparently they were taking this more seriously than Bobby had imagined.

A few months back, one of Sweet's somehow more loyal lackeys had come to the hospital wielding a gun. He threatened his way up to Jack's room and even shot one security guard in the arm before being taken down, partially thanks to Bobby's efforts.

Bobby now assumed this sudden interest in his brother's well being was more for the staff, than the patient himself.

"You can't go in there," the robust red head starting speaking before Bobby even finished approaching.

"It's alright," Dr. Gibson assured anxiously from behind Bobby.

Bobby was inside before the officer had barely cleared the way. He tore into the room and let his eyes devour every detail. Angel and Jerry were soon at his side, doing the same. After only a few moments, the three turned to the bathroom in unison. Inside, they found their anticipated answer.

"He's gone," Bobby hissed, stalking out and back towards the doctor again. "The window –"

"We know," Dr. Gibson bowed his head, "we just didn't want to tell you –"

"Tell us what?" Bobby controlled his voice down to a dangerous whisper. "How much you royally fucked up? You're lucky I have a brother to find."

"The police are already –"

"I don't give a damn with the fucking CIA or FBI or search and rescue and here lookin' for him. They ain't gonna find him." Bobby shared a knowing glance with his brothers. "But we will."

The three hastily lead Camille and Sofi out to the parking lot before any of them truly lost their temper with the officer standing two feet away.

"Camille," Jeremiah kissed his wife on the cheek, "go back home."

"What?" Camille's hands sank into her hips.

"Sofi, go to our place," Angel nodded at his girlfriend.

"Camille, baby, please. Drop Sofi off and go home. Then both of ya'll stay by the phone," Jerry instructed. "Jack might call or show up and we can't miss it if he does."

The women relented and hastily were on their way while the brothers finished their own plans. They quickly split up and were off without another word.

They knew their baby brother. It was in Jack's very nature to run away. He had done it enough when he had first come to Evelyn. If Jack had awoken, scared and confused, it would have been an impulse reaction. Not to mention the fact that hospitals alone sent the youngest Mercer into a frenzy.

The brothers just had to believe that, like every time before, they would find him.


	4. The Motions

**TITLE: **Second Life

**CHAPTER/TITLE: **Chapter Four/ The Motions

**RATING: **T (language and mature content)

**A/N: ** Still all Four Brothers. Trust me. There are many, many more chapters to go. Still a few more devoted to the Mercers, but just you wait.

**DISCLAIMER: **I am not John Singleton or any other person affiliated with, who has ownership of, or rights to, Four Brothers.

**Reviews are to me, what finding Jack is to Bobby.**

**Chapter Four: The Motions**

Jack never called.

He never stumbled home confused.

They didn't find him curled away, scared in a corner in any of his favorite hideaway haunts.

After 24 hours, Jack Mercer was officially a missing person.

After 48 hours, one very unwise detective informed the brothers that the odds of finding Jack significantly dropped.

A week later, the Mercers were pretty positive the police had already given up.

The brothers hadn't.

Each of them made frequent visits to the station. Detroit was littered with flyers, ads and pictures of lost souls. The first time Bobby went and saw his brother on one of those boards, he had to turn right around and leave the building. A minute later, he was wiping the drying vomit from his chin. Every time one of his daughters asked where Uncle Jack was, Jeremiah had to lock himself in the bedroom for a good hour and a good cry. Angel was quieter than even normal. He stared at the wall a lot and his brothers wondered if he would start punching them again as he had when he was young.

And none of them ever stopped looking for their missing brother.

They simply weren't whole without him. Something had just clicked into place when Jack was brought into their lives. With the four of them, it just felt right, complete. Something thicker than blood bonded those boys together and now one of those ties as hanging loose. Loose, not severed. Jack was still alive. That kept the thread alive.

Despite all of the possible, and probable, sobering scenarios, Bobby would vehemently oppose the idea of Jack being gone from this life. The brothers knew that if that were true, they would all feel it.

Doctors stood by their theories of brain damage and memory loss. Bobby had blanched, Jeremiah had dropped his head in his hands, and Angel had made an odd noise in his throat when Dr. Gibson revealed that Jack might no longer even know who _he _is. They weren't sure what was worse, losing him, or finding him lost in his own mind, not remembering himself, or them.

A social worker surmised that Jack could have suffered an emotional or psychological breakdown with the death of Evelyn and the extensiveness of his injuries. The stress could have been too much and, similar to the brothers' theory, he bolted to escape his problems before rational thinking could take place.

Certain police officers assumed he had turned to the streets, having heard enough of Bobby and Jerry's experiences to be capable of doing so and surviving. Others secretly spoke of how the boy was likely to turn up in the river or behind a dumpster. A few spirited and empathetic officers suggested that Jack went to the next most familiar place he knew.

Of course, that wasn't very hopeful either. Searching New York would be ten times the trouble, time and turmoil than Detroit.

Still, a month after no news, Bobby and Angel were on a plane to the Big Apple. They returned six weeks later with no money and no brother.

While Bobby and Angel spread out the grid, Jerry remained planted in Detroit. He continued to follow up with law enforcement and local know-all, see-all snitches, reporters, bartenders and hoodlums. He also made sure that someone was at his and his mother's houses at almost all times to intercept a possible phone call. They weren't willing to miss anything.

When Bobby wasn't on the hunt or working miscellaneous mediocre jobs for quick cash, he was at the cemetery. He spent hours upon hours having one way conversations with Evelyn. He apologized for what he had allowed to happen and begged her to watch over Jack while he couldn't.

Thanksgiving came and went. Now, two seats were vacant. All of the chairs ended up empty, as none of the remaining brothers felt much like being thankful or facing the glaring reminders of the holes in their lives. Not only would their lack of physical presence be enough to cause crippling grief, but there were so many other things about the holiday as well. Evelyn was the best cook in the family, followed closely by Jack. The other three could not even compare and were usually banished from the kitchen. Jack had at least been present the previous year to relieve some of that sting. The meal hadn't been the same, but it was a Thanksgiving meal nonetheless. Jack was also the fastest skater, after Bobby. Angel might have been more aggressive and scored more goals, but once Jack had the puck, he would have it across the ice and to one of his waiting brothers in no time. A traditional pickup game was out of the question. Then there was the music. Evelyn's passion for it had seeped into all of her boys, but had done something more in Jack. Tunes had always echoed against the walls of the Mercer household, but especially so on holidays. Evelyn was humming Christmas carols as early as the dessert course of their Thanksgiving feast. Even one solitary note now brought their faces to mind.

Losing Evelyn was a crushing, devastating, blow. Still, they could survive it – as long as they were together. Everything seemed harder and far more painful now. Her absence was punctuated by his. One of them gone was excruciating. Both of them gone was unbearable.

Christmas was a blur. Angel was dragged by Sofi to spend the tortuous time with her family. Jeremiah, similarly, was with his in-laws. Both plastered on a brave face for their families. Bobby just got himself plain old plastered in a very different, dangerous way.

Bobby spent most of his free time properly inebriated. At all times, though, at least some amount of alcohol was on his breath.

They went through these motions for months, waiting for their brother to come home.

"Bobby," Johnny interrupted the eldest Mercer's current self-drowning in alcohol. "I got something to show you."

"Ain't interested," Bobby mumbled into the lip of his glass of whiskey.

"Well, then, get interested," Johnny bent over the bar and grabbed Bobby's drink out literally from under his noise.

"You better have a damn good reason –"

"Jack."

That one word stopped everything. It quelled Bobby's rage. It silenced all other noise in the room, at least, to Bobby's ears. And for a moment, Bobby was sure it had stopped his heart.

"Get your brothers and get to Archie's place. Now." Johnny's voice was so low it was sinking into the woodwork of the bar.

"Archie? Archie fucking Gates? That ex-cop? What the –"

"Just get your drunk and lazy ass over there. Now. Looks like your boy is in some deep shit. Time to pull him out."


	5. The Line

**TITLE: **Second Life

**CHAPTER/TITLE: **Chapter Five/ The Line

**RATING: **T (language and mature content)

**A/N: ** Sorry for the lack of Mercer or Darley boys in this chapter. I had a little fun writing this chapter, exploring this character's life. I don't know if you will enjoy it like I did. I enjoyed WRITING it, not what happens to him. Come on people, I'm not a masochist or sadist or something. It was just a nice little break from the usual. We're getting really close to some Darley action here, but I can't say much else without giving away the big kicker I've been planning.

**DISCLAIMER: **Archie Gates is the name of George Clooney's character in Three Kings, in which Mark Wahlberg (Bobby Mercer) stars. The story of his life is probably portrayed in many movies, or at least the vague, general idea of it. So, I guess I still own nothing.

**Reviews are to me, what the laundry room is to Angel. Oh, wait…ew**

**Chapter Five: The Line**

Archie Gates lived in a vermin infested, feces smelling, crack in the wall. A literal, "rat-hole". It was quite the humble step down from his two-story, four bedroom home. He wasn't just a cop. He was _that _cop. He was the one who always managed to be at the store when a kid was shoplifting. He had this knowing knack for gang activity. He could spot a truant in a crowd of a thousand. He could sniff out a party and tell by the way a teenager walked what make and model piece he was carrying. It was innate. And to the not-so-straight walking citizens of Detroit, it was just plain infuriating. He had a gun pulled on him in a court room while he was on the witness stand. He had been shot at outside of three different clubs. He had taken a bullet to the shoulder in an alley. He had suffered a knife to the thigh in a high school while giving an anti-violence lecture. Each time, he got away alive and with the criminal in cuffs. Every officer wanted to be him, and every hoodlum wanted to eradicate him.

That was, until on one middle of the night patrol, this model officer single handedly prevented a hold up. It was a gang initiation, he was to discover later. He would also find out later that the kid he shot three times in the chest was only fourteen years old. Tayshaun Jonze was in eighth grade. He was a child prodigy in art and singing. In seventh grade he had told his guidance counselor he wanted to be the next Picasso. In eighth grade, his answer was TuPac. He stopped going to art class and took his craft to the streets and walls of the city. He no longer sang about God in his church choir, but instead rapped about drugs and girls with his new friends. The summer between Tayshaun's seventh and eighth grade, his father was released from prison. His first act as a free man was to brutally butcher his ex-wife and the mother of his watching son. When Tayshaun wouldn't join in on his father's fun, the boy was beaten until the neighbors that found him didn't even recognize his face.

Archie Gates wondered darkly how many other of the criminals in this city came out of such grisly and unspeakable backgrounds. How many teenagers did he throw behind bars without question? How many parents' stories of their children falling down stairs or getting in scuffles at schools did he believe without an ounce of hesitation?

He began seeing those at the other end of his gun through a new set of eyes. And then those on his side in a new, unflattering light as well. That same week, two officers that he had patrolled with were discovered to be dirty cops by his own investigation into his victims' lives.

The former officers won their revenge, and Archie Gates lost his wife and daughter.

It was a staged home invasion. Gates had been granted the luxury of finding his family, bloodied and bullet-ridden on the kitchen floor. He never set foot in that house again.

Nothing made sense after that. The law, the criminals, the good, the bad, all blended and fogged together. That line that had once separated the just from the unjust was growing thinner. Gates' policing methods became questionable. He began helping more outcast offenders, and exposing more corrupt officers. He began to bend the law in a different way than his dirty colleagues, and neither the good or bad cops liked that one bit. It wasn't until he finally hunted down the hired gunmen who had stolen his family away from him and buried them, that his badge was ripped from his chest.

Now, his life was something out of a Nicholas Cage or Vin Diesel movie. He worked underground as a private detective. His clients weren't hardened criminals or killers, but they definitely were going through life more on the straight-_ish_ side. They were people. Real people, with real, raw problems.

He found a lot of these clients at Johnny G's bar.

"What are we doin' here, Bobby?" Jeremiah sighed as brother rapped on the door.

"Fuck if I know," Bobby shrugged. "Johnny wouldn't say shit."

"When you ever know Johnny not to talk?" Angel shook his head.

"When someone tells him not to," a voice responded behind them.

All three brothers spun around in a second, Bobby's gun already drawn and pointed at the stranger.


	6. Remember Me

**TITLE: **Second Life

**CHAPTER/TITLE: **Chapter Six/ Remember Me

**RATING: **T (language and mature content)

**A/N: ** NEXT CHAPTER: a good dose of Jack and Darley. You'll be seeing a lot of Jack soon, so that should appease the angry mob outside my door. Right?!

**DISCLAIMER: **bleh

**Reviews are to me, what music is to Jack.**

**Chapter Six: Remember Me**

"You can put that away," then balding man braved a grin.

"And why's that?" Angel scoffed.

"Because I'm the one you're looking for." The man stepped forward sluggishly, unscathed by the weapon.

"We know who you are," Bobby spat. "Still don't mean shit to me. Tell me right the fuck now why I should put this away and listen to anything you got to say."

"Look, boys, I've been doing this for a long time. And the one thing my clients know is that I don't respond to threats. You'll get nothing from me by waving that thing in my face."

"We ain't your clients," Angel argued.

"Well, yes, you are," the man lazily raised his brow, as if the answer was obvious. "I mean, that is, if you actually _want _to see your brother again."

"What the fuck do you know about that?" Bobby pressed his pistol against the detective's forehead.

"Absolutely nothing until you lower the gun, Rambo."

Bobby paused. A part of him wanted to plant a bullet in the man's skull for his sheer nonchalance over the situation. With a grunt, he dropped his arm to his side and stepped aside. He was almost positive that the man purposefully pushed his bag of groceries into Bobby's shoulder as he past. He unlocked the door and didn't turn around before entering.

"Come inside," he ordered from within the building. "You three don't exactly scream 'inconspicuous'."

"Where's our brother?" Bobby was barking before the door was even closed.

"I see your patience is about as thin as the line between good and downright criminal you walk."

"Please," Jerry cut in carefully, "can you help us find Jack?"

"You, I like. I'm Archie Gates," the detective extended his hand to Jeremiah, who took it warily.

"Jerry," he nodded in return.

"Nice to meet you, Jeremiah. I trust the family is doing well."

"We already know who everybody is, damn it," Bobby spat.

"In my day, there was such a thing called manners," Archie responded readily. "Call me old fashioned."

"And call me fucking –"

"Bobby," Jerry interrupted what he knew would be a bullheaded and longwinded remark.

"You must be Robert, then," Archie continued casually. "The great Michigan Mauler. And Angel? Semper fi. Was a Marine myself before I joined the force. Good for you."

"Can you just –"

"This is not something you are going to want to charge, guns blazing, into," Archie interrupted the eldest Mercer. "Whatever your brother is involved in, or whatever somebody has involved him in, well, let's just say dangerous doesn't even cover it. The _only _reason I am helping you three is because I owe Johnny. That's it. That's as far as this gravy train goes, my friends. I will give you the information you need, and then I will walk away. What your brother is doing, what he is a part of, is not something I can support in any way. I will help those who need it, and look the other way when I know it is the right thing to do, but there isn't anything about what is going on here that is right. I just hope you boys are ready."

"We're ready," Angel challenged.

Archie Gates took a seat at an aged and lopsided desk, gesturing for the three to take the foldable chairs opposite of him. Without a word, the detective reached into a drawer and pushed its contents across to eager eyes.

They were medical records. Thick, detailed and vivid, records.

"Jack's file?" Jerry thumbed through the other stack of papers. "How does this help us?"

"These aren't for Jack Mercer." Archie spoke softly.

The brothers blinked. They had to be for Jack. The pictures couldn't lie. They were staring right at the child they had welcomed into their home all those years ago. They wouldn't ever forget that young and frightened – and bruised and broken – face.

"Billy Darley?" Bobby read the name on the folder aloud. "Who the fuck is he and what does he have to do with Jack?"

"Jack William Mercer, formerly, Jackson William Hutton. Born, William Jackson Darley. _Billy_ Darley. Son of William 'Bones' Darley and Mary Andrews."

"That's – how –?" Bobby couldn't form words with his mouth while his eyes were still scanning the familiar file.

"Mary Andrews, dies during childbirth of second son, Joseph Darley. William Darley, Senior, charged with assault, '87, again in '88, armed robbery, '88 and '89. Those are just a few of his prettier crimes. Only gets convicted once. They could never pin anything on him. He's suspected of murder and it's pretty obvious that he sells more than guns at his shop, mostly through his son and the kid's friends. A lot of cops got their hands in his pockets. Joseph Darley, a real piece of work. He's been in and out of juvie more times than you were," Archie nodded at Bobby poignantly. "Been in jail once. A few months back, a new player joins the game. Gang activity doubles. The unspoken word: Billy Darley has come home."

"Jack would never be involved in any of this," Jerry spoke the words that were echoed in his brother's shaking heads.

"I just deliver facts," Archie shrugged. "And phone numbers."

Another piece of paper slid across the desk. Bobby was standing and dialing before he could even think it through.

"Careful," Archie warned. "Johnny told me about your brother's trip to the hospital."

"So?" Angel pressed.

"So I know about the chance that he might not be all there upstairs anymore," Archie tapped his temple.

"So?" Angel repeated, almost in a rage.

"So, the person on the other end of that line might not even remember you," Archie nodded to the cell phone in Bobby's hand. "If his memory set back far enough, he might not _be _Jack anymore."

Bobby wouldn't believe it. He couldn't. Instead, he finished dialing and pressed the device to his ear with more force than he even realized.

"Yeah," a familiar and heart wrenching sleep slathered voice mumbled on the other end.

"Jack?"

"Who the fuck is this?" The voice was certainly awake now and more hostile than Bobby had ever heard.

"Jack, shit, man. It's your fucking brother."

"What about him?"

"It's Bobby. Where the hell have you been? Are you okay?"

"If Joe is pulling some dumbass shit, or got his ass locked up again or whatever, I don't wanna fuckin' hear it, okay? Let the little bastard take care of his own damn self."

"_I'm _your brother, Jack. What the fuck is going on?"

"Wrong number, asshole."

"What?"

"Only got one brother," The man with his brother's voice clipped, "and his name ain't Bobby."

"Jack, hey –"

"Call this number again, and you're dead."

The line went lifeless. Bobby nearly dropped his phone. Instead, he slammed the small device shut and spun around to face his brothers.

"We're going to Chicago."


	7. Billy Darley

**TITLE: **Second Life

**CHAPTER/TITLE: **Chapter Seven/ Billy Darley

**RATING: **T (language and mature content)

**A/N: ** Hooray! We have finally arrived in Death Sentence territory. Watch your backs.

**DISCLAIMER: **I don't own Four Brothers or Death Sentence.

**Reviews are to me, what this chapter is to you Jack-deprived readers.**

**Chapter Seven: Billy Darley**

The brothers watched as the stranger who they once called family strutted out the door of a motel room as if he was the king of the world. The alterations of his appearance were jarring. The long, unkempt, blonde locks that were Jack's pride were completely missing, replaced by a clean shaven scalp. His eyes were no longer a beautiful mixture of hope and despair. Now, they were dark and angry. The rock star image was abandoned with a long leather coat in its stead. His stature had certainly improved. The boy had muscles the brothers had never knew Jack could obtain. Of course, he was not a boy anymore. He was a man. An adult. A stranger. A stranger with a swagger. Jack had never had much confidence in his stride. He tried his best to discreetly imitate his brothers or arch his back and shoulders with crossed arms to look tough. Now, his gait was almost predetermined and flawless.

Jack stopped at a sharp muscle car that Angel felt himself drooling over. At least his brother's taste had improved. Before, the youngest Mercer could not care less about automobiles. He had easily chosen funneling any money he had towards his music rather than a car and once in New York he came best friends with the subway. Jack had even recounted how the crowded metal tube made his fingers itch to return to his thieving days. He was a skilled pickpocket and spent every day in the Big Apple resisting the urge.

This new Jack did not seem to be resisting any urges. From the little the brothers could find, Jack, or Billy, now, had built quite the reputation here. Drugs, stealing cars, armed robbery and assault were just the tip of the criminal iceberg. This new version of their brother rivaled even Bobby's past self. None of them were sure of how to even broach this hurdle.

Bobby snorted as Jack put a cigarette to his lips. At least some things never changed. Women and cigarettes were the only shadow left of Jack Mercer. Billy Darley was the individual standing in front of them; a hardened gang leader. As much of a shock as it was to see their baby brother on the top of the criminal ladder, they also weren't surprised at the same time. Each one of them had had their taste of the street life, and each one of them had been able to swiftly earn respect and power wherever they went. Jack never went that far down that particular road before. Still, he had the intelligence, skills and brotherly influence to easily excel. They always knew Jack was the one of them that was headed for big things. They simply hadn't pictured it to majoring in gang leadership.

"What are we doin' Bobby?" Jerry sighed.

"Yeah," Angel echoed from the backseat. "We found him. Now what?"

"Found him?" Bobby shook his head. "He ain't even Jack anymore. We found Billy Darley."

"Don't say that," Jerry hissed. "He's still our family. He's still our brother."

"Yeah, Bobby," Angel nodded, "he still our Cracker Jack – just more full of ink. Probably got all those tattoos 'cause he missed me so damn much."

"Those ain't Marine tats, Angel," Bobby swallowed. "Those are the markings of a gangbanger."

"Hey, well all got some leftover ink from that life," Jerry tried to reason.

"Except some of us didn't cover ours up with our wife's name," Angel chuckled.

"Check this shit out," Bobby cocked his head towards the window, turning his brother's attention to Jack again.

Another car pulled up, flashing the same markings that decorated Jack's car and skin. A group of equally shady and inked young men piled out and greeted their brother. They exchanged quick words with serious expressions. A boy obviously younger than the rest of the group slipped lazily out of the backseat and Jack visibly blanched for a fraction of a second. Bobby saw something in his brother's eyes then. Humanity took over the dark and brooding orbs. It was a look Bobby recognized. As discreetly as possible, Bobby rolled down the window a crack and was hit with his lost brother's voice.

" – is he doin' here?" Jack spat.

"He wanted to come," a dark skinned male shrugged.

"I don't give a damn what he wants. Joe, get your ass back in that car."

"No way. I wanna be part of this."

Jack didn't speak. His fists clenched and is gaze darted towards the motel.

"We're wasting time," Joe groaned. "Come on, Billy. This is fucking routine kid shit. He owes. We collect."

"No. There is no 'we'. _You _don't do shit. This is too dangerous."

"Bullshit. I could do it myself. It's just a collection of payment."

"You don't even know what that means."

"'Course I do." Joe bit off. "This is fucking bullshit, man. You roll into town and now you're the fucking boss."

Jack reacted swiftly. He grabbed the younger boy by the back of the neck and pushed him away from the crowd, closer to Bobby's car. The voices were low and the brothers had to strain to hear pieces.

"You know damn well I didn't just fucking 'roll into town', Joe. This –" the whisper became inaudible as Jack's expression softened, "– he isn't just some addict he – dangerous – deliver a message – you getting' hurt in the crossfire."

Joe nodded submissively, but definitely not happily. Jack squeezed the kid's shoulder and ushered him towards the car. Joe defiantly pulled away from Jack and got inside the car, slamming the door shut behind him.

"So, what's the plan, Billy?" one of the men huffed and Bobby couldn't help replay an old conversation in his head.

"We're wingin' it," Jack replied with a shrug and flick of his cigarette.

Bobby grinned. With that one phrase, he could hear Jack somewhere inside this false identity. In that one answer, he knew his brother was still alive.


	8. Reunion

**TITLE: **Second Life

**CHAPTER/TITLE: **Chapter Eight/Reunion

**RATING: **T (language and mature content)

**SUMMARY: "**Jack didn't notice when Joe's vacant expression suddenly shifted. He did notice when the gun cocked. His heart ripping a hole through his already bruised and beaten chest, Jack slowly turned around. Bones was lying on the ground, his eyes now blazing behind broken frames, a pistol nestled in his hands." Jack goes missing. The Mercer brothers pull out all the stops to find him, until they discover what his baby brother has been up to, and what, or who, he's turned into. Post-Four Brothers. Pre-Death Sentence.

**A/N: **Yes, again, it's been a LONG time since an update. I originally had a different chapter that was going to be posted here but, alas, it is sitting on my non-working laptop. The thing is dead. Defeated. Done. And smart me, I forgot to save my last few updates on USB. I originally had the story swap back in time now and let readers see what exactly happened to Jack for a few chapters, and then have time catch up in the middle of the last scene, where we left off. Then, after all the "only brothers" and "only Jack" chapters, they would finally 'reunuite', so to speak. I liked the way that worked out, but, all my "just Jack" chapters in the Death Sentence world are now gone. I need to get my inspiration back to rewrite them all over again. So, in the meantime, I figured I would give you guys at least SOMETHING. This is the scene that was going to take place later, I just put it here instead. If that makes sense. Hopefully by the next chapter we will see behind the Death Sentence curtain and what happened to Jack.

**DISCLAIMER: **...yupp.

**Please, read and review!**

**Chapter Eight: Reunion**

"Whoohee! That was sure a messy one." A man with thick dark waves of hair laughed as the gang reassembled in the parking lot.

"Now everyone will know what happens when someone fucks with us," a man with a Spanish flavored voice nodded.

"You don't pay, you get yourself fucked up," the loud brunette agreed. "You come after one of us, and you are your bitch get dead."

Bobby's knuckles were ghostly white as he nearly ripped the steering wheel apart. He couldn't process what he was hearing. His brother couldn't be involved in murder. This was Jack after all. Jack could hold his own in a fight and defend himself better than most, but he wouldn't purposefully hurt a fly without being provoked. Bobby was all too familiar with 'delivering messages'. Usually, though, that task was left for those on the bottom of the heap. If Jack was truly the leader, then the only reason he would be involved is if it was personal or something big.

"It ain't over," Jack's voice was low and dangerous as he stepped outside. "There's always more."

" Hanley's crew is tryin' to take over." Another grunted. "Takin' our customers, our business, our money. They're like roaches."

"Then we cut off the fucking head," one of them declared boldly.

"That's enough for one night," Jack said casually. "We got what we came for. Heco, Bodie, Dog, you're up tonight. I ain't covering for any of your asses again."

"What about you?" The man who had been pointed to as Bodie questioned.

"I got my own business to take care of." Jack spoke slowly. "Take Joey home. Everyone, out."

The gang dispersed, leaving a frozen Jack in the parking lot. Bobby couldn't figure out what was going on. It was only a matter of time before someone pulled in to crash or shack up at the poor excuse for a motel or a manager came out. If Jack really was a killer now, he apparently wasn't a smart one. The man sniffed and rubbed his nose, briefly closing his eyes.

A moment later, he was walking straight towards them, a gun in his hands.

Bobby wasn't quick enough to reach his own piece as the shock of the moment was paralyzing him. Jack was to the car within moments, gun aimed at his eldest brother's head.

"Get out." Jack ordered sharply.

In a daze, the three brothers complied. Jack waited for them all to gather in front of him before speaking.

"Who the fuck are you and why are you following me?" Jack demanded with malice in his icy voice.

"Jack –" Bobby took a step forward but was met with a wave of the gun.

"Jack? Hold it – you're the fucker who called me."

"Yeah. I am. Now you mind pointin' that thing somewhere else?"

"Yeah." Jack scoffed. "I do. You three need to turn around and go back to wherever the hell it is you came from."

"Can't do that, Jackie," Bobby shrugged.

"You can and will if you want to live. Go home, and live. Keep following me, and you'll die."

"Damn," Jerry shook his head. "What happened to you Jack?"

"Shut the fuck up. I told your boy here before that I ain't whoever the hell you think I am."

"Yes you are," Jerry urged.

"I said, '_shut up_'. You got a family?"

"Yeah, I do," Jerry nodded.

"Well, so did that sorry bastard in there. He left two girls behind. You wanna leave your girls behind?"

"This is crazy," Angel hissed.

"Crazy is you three, tailing me 'n my crew. You're lucky you're still breathing. That luck is just about the run out. Everyone will die if you don't stop. Now get the hell outta here before I get bored and pull this trigger."

The brothers somberly returned to the car. Bobby cranked the keys and punched the gas before spinning around and nearly flying out of the parking lot. He didn't go far. There was a wide alley just down the road and the eldest Mercer sharply backed in and killed the engine.

"Son of a bitch," Bobby breathed. "The little fairy remembers."

"What the hell are you talkin' about Bobby?" Angel scoffed. "He was gonna kill us. Said so himself."

"No," Bobby shook his head. "He never threatened to do anything. He said we would _be _killed, but never said he'd be the one to do it."

"So what? Means he's got others to do his dirty work." Jerry shrugged dejectedly.

"I ain't following," Angel sighed in agreement.

"Damn, do I have to break it down for you ladies? He asked Jerry if he had a family. Why not me or you, Angel? He said that guy had two daughters and mentioned Jerry leavin' his girls behind. Jerry never said 'nothin about having daughters. If he knew we were following him, he could've said something when everyone was here and had us taken out. That's sure a hell lot safer than approaching us alone. He said 'there are eyes all over', instead of 'we've got eyes' or some shit like that. It was a warning. He's being watched. It's all an act. The whole thing was a fucking warning."

"Are you sure?" Jerry pressed, hesitantly hopeful.

"I know my brother." Bobby stated simply. "He ain't got amnesia or some shit. He didn't wander or run off. He was fucking taken. Someone is forcing him to be here to do all this – and that someone is gonna die."


	9. Jack Mercer

**TITLE: **Second Life

**CHAPTER/TITLE: **Chapter Nine/ Jack Mercer

**RATING: **T (language and mature content)

**A/N: **Time to rewind a bit. We're going back to the hospital to see what exactly did happen to Jack. The next few chapters will chronicle Jack during the time he was missing and then meet up with Bobby, Jerry and Angel seeing him for the first time as Billy Darley as they did in the last chapter. It will make sense. Oh, and I hope you sort of recognize this first bit from the first chapter….

**DISCLAIMER: **I don't own Four Brothers or Death Sentence.

**Reviews incite spontaneous happy dancing.**

**Chapter Nine: Jack Mercer**

_Beep…Beep…Beep…Beep…Beep…_

It was the most annoying sound Jack Mercer had ever heard.

_Beep…Beep…Beep_

Its maddening steadiness seeped into his subconscious and began to make his hands shake. Its repetitiveness incited a burning rage inside his stomach. Everything about that seemingly simplistic and trivial noise brought Jack discomfort. It drummed against his head and beat against his heart.

_Beep…Beep…Beep_

More powerful than any speech. More magnificent than any piece of music.

_Beep…Beep_

Jack had a lot of least favorite sounds.

_The cock of a gun…The crying of his mother and brothers…The slicing of blade against flesh…The clamor of beer bottles and the following crash as his foster father broke them over the back of Jack's head …The way power tools roared and grinded as if alive as they bore into his flesh…The first time his foster father spoke his name…The pop of his punch against another Jack's jaw…The opening notes of Marvin Gaye massacre…Angel singing along with Diana Ross…The subdued snap of one of his guitar strings…Jerry calling and telling him that their mother was dead…_

Still, at least in that single solitary moment, none of them came measurably close to comparing to this.

It wasn't merely the dull droning of a machine. It wasn't simply some soft sound in the background. This singular sound was the most important thing in the entire world.

His heart.

Jack's life.

It was all clinging together and singing with that one noise.

It was the only thing reminding Jack that he was even alive.

He was alive. He was awake. But it was still so dark. Everything was dark, all around him. Even inside of him. Everything black.

He wanted to be dead. There was so much pain. Too much. Jack had lived a life riddled with bullets and pain, and now here he was with both. The physical and emotional agony weighed too heavily upon him this time.

A part of him had wanted to die the moment he had heard of his mother's death. Now, that temptation came rushing back. It was always something Jack had to fight against. His own death wish. Even if he was the happiest he had ever been in his life, it somehow always lingered there, like a cancer in the back of his mind, refusing to relinquish power.

There was another reason, though, that Jack loathed that noise. That sickening sound meant something else as well.

Jack was in a hospital.

There were a lot of things Jack feared in his life and many that he hated. Hospitals fell in both of those categories.

Jack's eyelids cracked open to confirm his suspicion. The darkness was banished and the white walls screamed, Jack nearly doing the same. And then Jack realized something else.

He was alone.

In the blackness, Jack had heard voices. Distorted, as if underwater. But still they were there. Bobby, Jerry, Camille, the girls, Angel, Sofi, his doctors and nurses. None of them were there now. He needed them to be there. He needed someone to be there.

Panic flooded Jack's senses. Fear and adrenaline overruled any and all memory of pain.

Without thinking, Jack began ripping wildly at the wires and tubes attached to his body. He was hardly aware of what he was doing. As he slowly swung his legs over the side of the bed and let his feet touch the floor, even adrenaline couldn't completely block out the agony. He caged a roar and clung to the edge of the bed. Ever so carefully, Jack shifted his weight to his apparent good leg and dragged himself across the room.

His mind was still foggy and some of the darkness played at the back of his brain. He was tiring, quickly. He couldn't fall into the black again. Not again. The last two times he let that happen he lost Bobby. He vaguely remembered waking in this place before and his eldest brother's face above him. He also had an image in his head of Bobby bending over him, screaming at him about something that seemed important. Nothing made sense. He couldn't remember why he was here. He couldn't remember where his brothers were. And he definitely couldn't remember why there were literal holes in his body.

_Sweet._

He remembered Victor Sweet. He remembered the hit men. The car chase. The lawyer. An argument. But what else?

How much time had passed? Had his brothers gotten revenge?

What if Sweet was still out there? What if his brothers were in danger – or worse? What if he was in danger? Without his brothers there to protect him, Sweet and his men could easily pick him off.

Jack wasn't safe there. On top of the fact that the entire building drove him to marked insanity and terror, he was right out in the open for Sweet to get to him.

Clenching his teeth and ignoring the pain, Jack hobbled forward. He could hear voices on the other side of the door, ones he failed to recognize. Medical jargon was being spouted off by some doctor and two women walked by, discussing another patient. He couldn't go that way. He couldn't let them stop him. He had to get out. He had to get somewhere safe.

Safe.

The only place Jack had ever known as safe was with his family.

Limping and grunting, Jack heaved himself across the room and nearly tumbled into the bathroom. Catching himself on the sink, Jack's eyes caught the window. Jack was a skilled escape artist and climber. His current physical state made him hesitate for only a moment before his mind overcame his body. Jack was skilled in blocking out pain. It was an acquired talent. It was almost as if he left his body and went somewhere entirely different.

That was why when Jack's bare feet met the grassy ground several minutes later, Jack could hardly remember how he had gotten there. He glanced up at the window sills and piping he had just scaled and then down at his wounds. The stitching in his shoulder was now ripped open and Jack was just now feeling the effects.

Another grunt and clenched jaw and Jack continued on his way. His breathing and steps were heavy, as were his eyelids. He couldn't keep this up forever. The adrenaline would wear off soon. Too soon.

He avoided the stares and whispers of those around him as he hobbled forward. Again, he let his brain take over. He knew the way home. He always knew the way home. Street after street he continued on.

"Hey, man, are you okay?"

A stranger took Jack's shoulders in his hands. Jack blinked and then pulled away roughly.

"What –"

"Leave me alone!" Jack cried out, his vision blurring momentarily as pain shot through him.

"Just calm down." The man grabbed at Jack again and this time the youngest Mercer retaliated.

Jack pushed the stranger to the ground and rounded the corner. His heart swelled as he did so and his home came into view. He stared longingly at the familiar building, watching warily as a car pulled up. Sofi stepped out of the passenger side and the vehicle sped off. Jack smiled. Even seeing Sofi was comforting after everything. The woman jogged across the yard and up the stairs into the house. Grinning, Jack began moving forward once more. If Sofi was there, her brothers had to be close. Or at least, she could tell him what was happening.

Jack was in the painful process of crossing the street when another vehicle came speeding down the road. This one did not give him joy. It was a large van and something about it sent horrible terror through him. A blue van flashed behind his blinking eyelids.

_"JackI"_

Jack turned at the echo of his brother's voice. When he found no one there, Jack turned his attention back to the black van that had caused the piece of memory to erupt.

Before Jack could cry out, the vehicle skidded to a stop right before him. A door ripped open and arms immediately were reaching out for his struggling body. Jack fought as a hand came over his mouth and then something hard against his head.

He vaguely heard the door slamming shut and the sound of the van screeching away before the world around him collapsed and he fell unwillingly back into the darkness.


	10. Stranger

**TITLE: **Second Life

**CHAPTER/TITLE: **Chapter Ten/ Stranger

**RATING: **T (language and mature content)

**A/N: ** If you're confused about Jack's memory, that's okay. It's not supposed to be clear exactly as to what Jack does and doesn't remember regarding his past and the shooting etc. Just for clarification though, Jack did not remember his life as a Darley before the accident. That part has nothing to do with the brain damage. He doesn't remember Bones or Joseph and never did while with the Mercer family. More on that later….

**DISCLAIMER: **I don't own Four Brothers or Death Sentence.

**Reviews are appreciated.**

**Chapter Ten: Stranger**

It was dark this time when Jack awoke. No bright hospital lights assaulted his sight. The blackness was not like that of Jack's mind where he had been trapped for so long. No, this darkness came from around him.

The very next thing he realized terrified him even more than the dark. Jack couldn't move. Oh, he could struggle, and writhe and twist until judgment day, but that was the only mobility he was granted. He stared down in horror at his bindings. Ropes secured him to an aged and rusted metal chair. Jack was a professional when it came to locks, knots, chains or any kind of bindings or barricade to keep people out, or in this case, in. Whoever tied these bonds was just as much of an expert as he was, maybe more so. When one of his older foster brothers thought it would be a good laugh to knot all of the shoes in the home, Jack was the first one out the door the next morning. When the football team had decided it would be fun to tie Jack to the flagpole, he had freed himself quite quickly. Now, all efforts seemed futile.

Before he could begin formulating a new plan, footsteps approached. Jack froze. Struggling always made it worse. He wasn't stupid. He knew whoever had put him there had done it for one of only a few reasons. Most of the options involved invoking some form of pain on the captive.

"You look different."

Jack twisted his head around at the venomous voice. His weary eyes landed on a young man who appeared as though the scowl he was showcasing was permanent. The boy studied Jack, as if sizing up an opponent. Apparently, he wasn't impressed.

"Who are you?" Jack demanded.

The stranger released something that, coming from another person, would have been laughter. This sound was more of a snarl.

"Wow," the young man whistled, "and I thought I hated you before."

"Hate me?" Jack coughed. "You don't even know me."

"Oh, I know _everything _about you. Believe me. Don't tell me what the fuck I don't know. You don't know shit. You don't even recognize your own –" he cut himself off and chuckled darkly.

"Recognize what? What the hell are you talkin' about? What the fuck is goin' on?" Jack's anger flared, his muscles tensed underneath his bindings.

"You really don't know," the stranger shook his head.

"No. I don't fucking know! Why don't you tell me what I don't know?" Jack's scream cracked under the weight of his agony.

"Who shot you?"

Jack was taken aback and mentally stumbled. The kid looked apathetic, yet possessed some spark of curiosity, and a little bit of something else – joy?

"What?"

"You got a fuckin' bullet hole in your shoulder and in your leg."

Flashes of a blue van clipped through his brain. Gunshots echoed in his ears. Well, Jack thought, that at least explained the hospital and the pain.

"I don't know," Jack mumbled.

"You don't know? You get _shot _and you don't know how or who did it? Do you know _anything_?"

"I. Don't. Remember." Jack gritted his teeth mechanically. "I woke up in a damn hospital and then was fucking taken here. You wanna tell me where the hell I am?"

"Chicago," the kid rose his brow, as if awaiting a reaction.

Before Jack could question the kid any further, a door Jack hadn't noticed crashed open. The young man visibly flinched and his arrogant demeanor dropped.

A man twice the size of Bobby stalked into the small room. His footfalls sent tremors of terror throughout Jack's entire being. It wasn't the fact that this man was altogether imposing. It wasn't because he was tied to a chair and at his mercy. There was simply somehow a deep, desperate and incomprehensible fear that was pulled out of Jack by this man's presence alone. Jack could not fathom why he held such insurmountable terror for this stranger.

"I thought I told you to stay the _fuck_ outta' here," the stranger's booming words were aimed at the boy, but the man's eyes remained on Jack.

"But he's –"

"Say one more damn word and I'll fuckin' put you in a chair right next to him. Now, get outta' my sight before I take you out of it."

The boy bowed his head and slunk out of the room with a defeated, yet determined air.

"Well, would ya look who's finally awake?" The man ignored the slammed door and sauntered over so that he was standing so close to Jack that he had to crane his neck to see his face.

Jack didn't look up. He didn't speak. He knew this routine. He was well-practiced with making himself as invisible as possible, even if he couldn't literally vanish. Anything more always earned more punishment, more pain. He was already beginning to allow his mind to retreat into that protected chasm it had created all those years ago for moments such as these, when the man brought his fist down against Jack's face.

"Welcome home, _son_."


	11. Voices

**TITLE: **Second Life

**CHAPTER/TITLE: **Chapter Eleven/ Voices

**RATING: **T (language and mature content)

**SPECIAL A/N: If you haven't already, you to my YouTube channel (Tara Laurel) and check out my short promo videos for this story! I had a lot more planned, more dialogue, different music, etc, but then my computer got sick and I just uploaded what I had. You can find them through my Tumblr page too (Tara Laurel). And if you're not already, you should totally follow both. Oh, and this account too. That would be good. Searching "Four Brothers Second Life" or "Tara Laurel" in the YouTube search should take you right there!**

**A/N: **I glaze over some parts as I would like to keep this story going at as fast a pace as possible. A lot of time passes over the course of this story (and has already for the Mercer brothers, but we're in Darley land now so we're still catching up). If something seemed tedious or my heart wasn't fully in it, I left it out. Sorry if that disappoints any of you. If you're a little confused at the beginning of this chapter, that's okay. There's been quite a bit of time lapse between this chapter and the last, but it will be covered farther down. Since you already know who Jack is now, I won't bore you with details that you already know, can guess, or learn from Death Sentence itself. For those who haven't seen the film, it's pretty easy to still follow along.

**DISCLAIMER: **I don't own Four Brothers or Death Sentence.

**Reviews are like electronic candy.**

**Chapter Eleven: Voices**

Jack pocketed a wad of crumpled cash and watched as his customer disappeared around a corner. Another sale. Another life damaged at his own hand. He fingered the drugs delicately, once more suppressing the dangerous desire. It would be so simple, so effective. So freeing. But it would also be fleeting. No matter how much of any drug he pumped through his system, unless he killed himself, he would still have to return to reality eventually. Besides, he didn't want to even begin to scratch that itch. One hit and Jack knew he would back under addiction's thumb. He had lost so much control of his own life. He needed to maintain whatever little he had left.

It had been three months. The longest three months Jack had ever known. Not only had he been ripped away from his brothers, but now he was faced with his new family. His _real_ family. Jack desperately and defiantly denied it at first. It couldn't be true. Somehow, though, he knew. After all the years of not knowing and not even caring to learn, he had found his father. As if all of that wasn't enough, Jack had discovered something else, something far more terrifying.

Jack had a brother.

A breathing, biological, blood, baby brother.

Joseph Darley.

The boy whose face had been the first thing he saw when he awoke three months ago. The stranger he didn't recognize, didn't remember. The young man, who openly, as Jack had quickly learned, loathed him. He hated Jack for leaving and then hated him even more for coming back. No matter what Jack said or did, it failed to convince his new sibling otherwise. Joseph seemed to despise everyone, everyone except, the gang.

Just as Jack had found a surrogate family, so did Joe. The members of their little band of criminals grew up together. They cheered Jack – Billy's – return and recounted stories of childhood mischief they had taken part in together. Jack pretended to remember. He feigned laughter. He forced a dark grin.

He had to.

After days inside that room. After hours tied to that chair. After all of the things is _father _did to him. Jack was finally released from his own "re-education". He emerged from that cell as Billy Darley.

Now, standing on a street corner, selling drugs for the second time in his short life, Jack almost couldn't resist the temptation. Still, whenever his fingers twitched with anticipation, Jack thought of his brothers. Not his blood, but his _bonded _brothers. He could hear Bobby swearing and shouting for him to stay strong. He listened as Jeremiah begged him to not give up. And he sighed as Angel argued with him. He heard them at all times. And he heard her. His mother was there with him too. His family.

_"You fuckin' fight," Bobby's bark bit at Jack's heart, "You be a fuckin' man and you don't stop fightin', no matter what. Don't back down, Jack."_

_"Don't you ever give up, Cracker Jack," Jerry would chime in with such sincerity it made Jack's caged tears bleed through. "You hang in there. You can do this. You're gonna be just fine."_

_"Don't be stupid," Angel would scoff, sending a shaky smile across Jack's face. "Use your head, Jackie-Poo. You got a bigger brain than the rest 'a us, so use it for once."_

_"Jackie," at this heavenly voice, Jack was usually brought to his knees. "I know you can do this. I know you're scared and hurt, but you're strong. You've got a strength inside of you that you don't even know. Use it. You will always be my son. Know that. I love you and I will never leave you."_

Yet there were other voices now as well. Dark voices. Dangerous voices.

_"You do what you're fuckin' told," his father's ferocity pulsed fear through his veins. "You're a good son. Good boy. So don't fuck me over. Or I'll fuck you."_

_"I wish you had died," Joseph's cutting and constant vocalized desire dented Jack's heart. "You're not my brother."_

_"Fuck 'em," a familiar voice commanded him. "Fuck all 'a them. Let 'em rot. Let 'em burn. Kill 'em. Burn 'em. Do whatever it takes to survive and fuck everything and everyone else."_

It was his voice.

Billy's voice.

Jack was living a lie. He put on the mask of Billy Darley. Yet, the longer he wore it, the more it seemed to secure itself to his face. It seeped in through his skin and poisoned his subconscious. His own mind was becoming a broken battlefield. The lie was fighting for power, for control.

_"Beat 'em all down. Fuck the world like it fucked you. Shit on everyone like they shit on you. Fuck it all."_

It was the most sickening self-talk Jack had ever known. The mantras and musings marched across the edges of his brain. They wanted in.

Billy wanted in.

It would be so easy for Jack. Just like disappearing in a high, he could disappear inside himself. He could do away with Jack Mercer. He could kill Jack Mercer. After all, Jack Mercer didn't exist. He was just a name. Just a made up name on paper. Of course, Billy Darley didn't exist either. Billy Darley stopped existing when he was only a child. Everyone around him wanted Billy, demanded Billy. He could just stop pretending to be Billy and simply give the monster the reigns. It frightened Jack when these thoughts crossed his cracked mind.

It terrified him at how easily sometimes it was to _be _Billy.


	12. Comfortable

**TITLE: **Second Life

**CHAPTER/TITLE: **Chapter Twelve/ Comfortable

**RATING: **T (language and mature content)

**A/N: ** If you're wondering why exactly Jack is becoming Billy and isn't running away, killing Bones, calling home, taking Joe and leaving, etc, you'll find out soon enough.

Again, if you haven't, go watch my promos on YouTube for this story…please?

**DISCLAIMER: **I don't own Four Brothers or Death Sentence.

**Reviews are to me, what tattoos are to Darley boys. Hmmm…I don't think that really worked but oh well.**

**Chapter Twelve: Comfortable**

_It terrified him at how easily sometimes it was to _be _Billy._

Another customer approached, pausing the internal war.

"Yo, Darley!" The icy voice greeted Jack and he quickly shoved the merchandise in his pocket.

This was no client.

"What the hell you think you're doin' here?"

Jack let his hand slide over the gun he now never parted with. He hated guns. He hated what they did to people. What they did to his mother. What they did to him. The cool metal against his skin was like fire. The first time his father had given him the weapon, Jack hadn't hesitated in pointing it in the man's face. He laughed. The monster just stood there and laughed. Jack never pulled the trigger. He didn't kill his capture for the same reason he was selling drugs, for the same reason he was doing any of this.

"What's it look like?" Jack let Billy speak to the man.

"It _looks _like you're doin' business on our fucking streets." The man made a show of pulling back his jacket to reveal his own piece tucked in his waistband.

"Get your fuckin' eyes checked." Billy's voice came out deeper. "These here are our streets. Always have been."

"What the hell would you know 'bout these streets? You've been gone. You don't know shit."

"Yeah, I was gone. In prison." Jack straightened, using the lie his father was selling everyone to explain his disappearance to his potential advantage. "But I'm back now. And I know a lot. Wanna know all the different ways I learned how to kill a guy in there? It's some pretty fun shit."

Jack's own words made his sick. Still, he didn't desire to have to fight this stranger. He merely hoped to intimidate him enough that he would back down. He thought of some of Bobby's stories from jail and readied them if needed.

"You think you're so fuckin' tough. How you be if we took daddy outta the picture, huh? No more protectin' your sorry ass. Everyone knows he runs your little piss poor gang. You don't run shit."

_"You ain't runnin' shit, Bobby!" _

The echo of Angel's argument gave Jack pause. He wasn't ready this time for the voice or the memory accompanying it. The stranger saw his opponents distracted gaze and stole the opportunity.

Before Jack could regain focus, a gun was greeting him. Jack stared down the barrel, letting Billy again take the wheel.

"Give it your best shot, fucker. My boys will hunt you down before you can ever break a sweat. Come on. Pull the trigger. See if you get lucky. See if you're still alive in 24 hours. I know I wouldn't put my money on that bet. You wanna take me out? Big bad, takin' out Billy Darley? Won't be much of a hero when you're rotting in the damn dirt or sinkin' to the bottom of the river."

"You don't scare me. You or your family or your _boys_. This is Hanley territory. I got ever right to pop you right here and now."

"Then go ahead. Stop wastin' my time and your breath. Come on! What are you waitin' for? Judgment day? For your balls to finally grow? I ain't gonna wait forever. Oh, and, uh, neither are my _boys_."

The gun wielding stranger stiffened. Without moving his head, he let his eyes wander to both his sides. Jack saw the moment when recognition hit him. The arrogance fell from his face as he took in the two weapons that were now trained on him. It was Jack's turn to take advantage of a distraction. He let his fist collide with the man's face.

Jack didn't wait for his victim to finish falling before turning on the two men as they holstered their guns.

"What the _fuck _is he doin' here?" Jack was nearly screaming.

"Savin' your ass," Joseph Darley snapped swiftly.

"Hanley boy was hasslin' him," the other man explained. "I took care 'a it. Heco got some heat from 'em last night on his run too. Joe, dude, wasn't even sellin' shit or nothin'. Just walkin' by and the dude jumped him. On our streets, too, man."

"You okay?" Jack gave his little brother a quick examination with his eyes.

"Fine," Joe bit back.

"Lucky I came along and saved your ass," the other added with a teasing snort.

"Yeah, yeah," Joe chuckled, his demeanor drastically transforming as he looked away from Jack.

Joe's laughter was cut short as the ground seemed to groan. The three men turned in unison to watch as the previously downed attacker drew his gun. He had it aimed awkwardly at Joseph.

Jack stopped thinking.

Everything went black as he retrieved his own weapon and hugged the trigger with his finger – and then again – and again. The man was dead by the second shot. Two sets of eyes were now on Jack. He couldn't let the bile rise to his throat. He couldn't allow the sweat to surface. He forbade his limbs to tremble and erased all emotion from his face.

"Bodie," Jack began cooly, "get Dog and take care 'a this," he lazily nodded towards the body, making unnoticed effort to avoid actually looking at it.

"Shit man," Bodie sighed, "now they gonna be all up on us for sure. These Hanley boys are getting' fuckin' serious, dude. They want in."

"Then we keep 'em out," Jack replied roughly.

"Ain't gonna be enough, man. We gotta push 'em back. They getting' too close. Getting' too comfortable."

Jack was brought back to his internal conflict. Billy wanted in and Jack wasn't doing much to push him back out. Was he getting comfortable as this new person? That and a dozen other questions flashed across Jack's mind but never revealed themselves in his eyes. He turned away from his victim and grunted.

"Then we make 'em uncomfortable."


	13. 422 66th Street

**TITLE: **Second Life

**CHAPTER/TITLE: **Chapter Thirteen/ 422 66th Street

**RATING: **T (language and mature content)

**A/N: ** See what I mean by lapsing time on purpose? I try to limit my chapters to around 1,000 words so that I can update more frequently, and to not overload you guys or drag on etc. That last "scene" took two chapters, and if I would have added everything I was thinking of, it would have taken 5 or more. 13th chapter and we haven't even gotten anywhere close to the end, let alone the middle. Maybe the middle, if I end up trimming some fat along the way.

**DISCLAIMER: **I don't own Four Brothers or Death Sentence.

**Reviews are to me, what leather jackets are to the Darley boys.**

**Chapter Thirteen: 422 66th Street**

The following night Jack had his entire crew hit the streets, that was, everyone save Bodie. Instead, the man had been given instructions, and threats, to keep Joey inside and out of trouble. Jack wasn't a veteran of street living, but he could always feel when a storm was coming. The Hanley brothers, all six of them, and their band of devoted drug smugglers, dealers, and users, were just beginning to flex their muscles. They were testing the waters. Testing _him_. They wanted to see if they could tangle with the new leader. It seemed that everyone was set on pushing Jack, or Billy, to his limits.

Now that Jack had killed one of their ranks, he was sure disaster would strike, swift, and soon. Retribution was guaranteed. Blood for blood. But not body for body. Jack knew they would not settle to simply even the score.

By saving Joe, Jack had declared war.

His first battle plan, keep the kid safe.

After everything Jack had done and was doing, he wasn't about to let Joe get taken out by some thug. Not now. Not ever.

Bodie would barricade Joseph inside a closet if he had to. The man was also charged with guarding their merchandise. It was pretty deep inside their territory, but Jack wouldn't put it past these Hanley cronies to try to take down their business before they went after bodies.

Next step, offense.

Everyone was heading out in pairs, Jack the only one making his run solo. They would work their spots and then safeguard the streets. So, technically, that was also more defensive on Jack's part, but he wasn't taking any chances. He talked and hyped the plan up to his crew. Growing up under the wing of Angel Mercer, Jack could possess a silver tongue when the need arose. He picked his words with great finesse and downplayed the defensive angle of the strategy.

Jack was just beginning to enjoy the solitude as he stalked away from another satisfied customer. As much as he loathed the job itself, Jack enjoyed his work for the sole fact that it granted him time to be alone. He had to grab any opportunity for privacy he could. He needed the time to think, to remember, to plan – and to breathe.

"Hear we got a little border problem."

Jack stiffened at the voice. He turned slowly to meet his father's glare.

"Takin' care of it," Jack reported dutifully.

"You better," the threat was heavily laced into his voice. "I need ya to be focused. I got another job for ya.

Jack tensed even more so than he thought possible. The way his father sounded, this job wasn't just going to be running a corner.

"Bradley Davis."

"What about him?" Jack shrugged.

"He owes."

The dark and dangerous words dug their way into Jack's brain. He knew exactly what happened to people who owed Bones Darley.

"You – I –" Jack quickly bled through the Billy exterior. "No. I won't. I'll do everything else. I've been doin' everything else. I've done everything you've told me."

"And now I'm tellin' ya to do this," Bones bent forward, his breath bathing Jack's forehead.

"I can't," Jack's voice cracked.

It was one thing to kill someone who was threatening his family, his friends or his own life. That was self-defense. That didn't mean Jack felt any better about it. But this? This was asking far too much of his already broken heart and mind.

"You will do this for me," Bones' mouth barely moved when he spoke, his teeth grinding against each other. "Your brother's pathetic life depends on it."

The world around Jack was spinning. Could he kill for a brother who hated him? Could he stand by and let Joseph die for his inaction?

"Please –" Jack stopped himself short.

He had begged. No one ever asked Bones Darley for anything, let alone begged. Never.

Jack didn't remember much of the rest of the conversation. Except pain.

And his father's final words to him.

"Bradley Davis," Bones lifted his son by his bloody collar and shoved a small piece of paper in Jack's mouth. "Tonight. Don't fuck up."

Jack collapsed to the ground when Bone's let go. He didn't notice when his father left. He didn't notice when it started to rain. He didn't even notice when a young couple crashed through the back door of a bar and began ripping each other's clothes off right in front of him in the alley.

The two lovers noticed, though, when a beaten and bloody figure rose from the ground. They watched as the dangerous looking man spit a piece of paper into his hand. They stepped back in fear when the stranger stalked past them and onto the street.

The next thing Jack knew, he was standing in front of an unfamiliar house. He stared at the wet and crumpled piece of paper in his hands, and then glanced at the apartment complex. He did this several times before stuffing the note in his pocket.

_422 66th Street. _

With one final breath, Jack let himself disappear inside his own mind.

Billy Darley was about to take care of business.


	14. Lesson

**TITLE: **Second Life

**CHAPTER/TITLE: **Chapter Fourteen/ Lesson

**RATING: **T (language and mature content)

**A/N: **

**DISCLAIMER: **I don't own Four Brothers or Death Sentence.

**Chapter Fourteen: Lesson**

Breaking and entering wasn't at all new to Billy Darley or Jack Mercer. The only difference was, their delivery. Jack chose stealth, while Billy, well, Billy liked to put on a good show.

Billy kicked the door in as he waved his gun in the air like a kid on Christmas.

"Rise 'n shine!" He shouted as he stalked through the small unit.

Billy went straight to the door he assumed to be the bedroom and planted his foot against this one as well. It crashed open with a satisfying snap and bang. The man in the bed before him was tangled in sheets as he awkwardly and anxiously attempted to reach for something in a nearby drawer. Billy made a disapproving noise with his tongue and took aim.

"Bradley Davis?" The question came out more as a statement, yet the man still nodded nervously.

"Please," the ruffled stranger whispered, "please, please. I thought we had an agreement."

"We don't make agreements." Billy replied sharply.

"He – he said – I paid! I paid him everything I owe. I swear. He said we – we were even."

"Who said?" Billy demanded darkly, drawing closer.

"Bones," the name shook coming from Davis' lips.

"I told him – I told him I couldn't – couldn't live like that anymore. I – I'm clean now. I got a daughter now. I got a job. A good job. I – I'm tryin' to be a good father, man. He said I was clear! He said we were good!"

Billy's eyes snapped to the small framed photograph on the bedside table, and the child that smiled at him from within it.

Jack screamed to the surface. He couldn't do this. He couldn't let Billy do this.

In one fluid motion, Jack holstered his weapon and charged forward. His hands were around Bradley Davis' collar and he was ripping him from the web of blankets before the man could move. Bradley whimpered as his body was shoved against the wall.

"Listen to me," Jack spoke quickly, "you can't keep your job. You –"

"Please –"

"Shut up and listen," Jack snapped. "I'm lettin' you keep your life, but you can't keep your job. You can't keep anything here. You take your daughter, and you run, okay? You disappear. Don't think. Don't wait. Just go."

"What?" The man could barely crack out fully formed words. "I don't understand. Why –"

"Listen to what the fuck I'm saying," Jack ordered, feeling Billy biting in his words. "If you stay, you will die. You'll die, and maybe even your daughter will die. You leave and you don't never come back. Disappear. Bradley Davis is dead now. Okay? The second I'm gone, you get the hell outta here and you don't look back for one damn second. You got me?"

Davis merely nodded. Jack closed his eyes with a heavy sigh and then stepped away, releasing the man from his grip. Without looking at him again, Jack turned and left as quickly as his legs would allow. He needed to get as far away from that place and that man as he could. He needed to get away from what he had almost allowed himself to do.

And when Jack finally found his bed that night, Billy was there in his dreams. He saw Bradley Davis. He saw the little red-headed girl with her father's nose. And then he saw Billy. He saw himself. He watched as he cornered them both. Jack tossed and turned in his sheets while Billy taunted and tortured. He killed the girl first, letting the father watch his daughter die.

The snap of the bullet against Bradley Davis' skull awoke Jack.

He didn't sleep again that night.

Or the next.

He was trying to get at least a few hours of rest in before he had to hit his corner, but sleep just wouldn't come his way. Jack figured he could walk to his spot to shed the exhaustion from his bones and eyelids. He hoped the cool night air would be enough stimulation to keep himself awake for his "shift".

What woke his senses instead, was a rough hand against the back of his neck.

He was almost to his corner when he felt the icy palm clasp his clammy skin. He recognized that hold anywhere. Without a word, Jack reluctantly allowed himself to be pulled off the street and into an alleyway.

"And how did our little project go last night?"

Jack nearly shrank at the accusation laced in his father's voice. He knew. Jack didn't know how, but he knew. He wondered if he should lie but quickly thought better of it. He would already face enough pain tonight. Why add more fire to the man's burning rage?

"Ya see, Billy," Bones was now crushing his fingers against Jack's neck, "I got a problem. I ask my son to do one simple fuckin' thing. Then, I get to hear from my boys that the man – the fucker I specifically told you to get the fuck rid of – is walkin' 'round breathin' my air. I don't like people that I don't like breathin' my air. 'Specially, if they're supposed to be dead! And my son, he doesn't even have the fuckin' balls to tell me this. Instead, he hides away all day like the fuckin' coward he is. You're makin' me look bad again, Billy. And when I don't look good, you don't look good."

Before Jack could respond, he felt his father's fist against his jaw. And then his cheek. And his eye. His nose. He was still struggling to stand and stop seeing stars when Jack noticed Bones backing away. There was a piece of plywood discarded along the brick wall and Jack watched in hazed horror as his father picked it up.

Bones swung like an all-star athlete, the makeshift bat colliding and nearly cracking against Jack's back. The wood came down again against his shoulders and then his side. Jack was on all fours by the time Bones started using the beam on his son's face. He was about to make the mistake of begging again when Bones suddenly dropped his weapon.

"Let me explain something to your pathetic mind," Bones sneered.

Before Jack could react, his father was exiting the alley. In a moment's time, he returned with a struggling young girl. She was obviously homeless and even more so noticeably strung out. Bones had literally just grabbed her off the street and no one batted an eye.

"What the hell are you doing? You sick –"

The brunette was silenced as a shot rang out. Jack didn't even see where he shot the stranger. She was crumpled on the ground before his brain had even caught up with what had just happened. She fell limp, not inches away from where he too lay on the concrete.

"I don't ask for much from my sons," Bones returned his gun to his waistband casually. "Just do what I say. Simple. I asked you to take care 'a somethin' for me. Now, I got to get someone else to clean up your mess. You think you're some hero, huh? I asked you to kill one insignificant, little, pathetic, crackhead. Congratulations. You gave him another day to be breathin'. Now, I kill him and her," Bones kicked the fresh corpse. "Disobey me again, and I'll blow two heads off. Then three. Then four. Then, your brother. Then, you. See? You still get to be the hero. Tonight, her blood is on your hands. Don't let it happen again."

Jack stared into the young woman's wide and vacant eyes before his own finally slid closed.

This time, he didn't dream.


	15. Blackout

**TITLE: **Second Life

**CHAPTER/TITLE: **Chapter Fifteen/ Blackout

**RATING: **T (language and mature content)

**A/N: **

**DISCLAIMER: **I don't own Four Brothers or Death Sentence.

**Chapter Fifteen: Blackout**

Jack couldn't stop throwing up. The contents of his stomach had spilled out long ago. Bile came next. Now, all Jack could do was dry heave. His head was drilling, his heart drumming. His vision wouldn't stop tilting. Every inch of his form was quaking.

Just outside his door, on the other side of the wall, everyone was partying. Celebrating. Deafening music that would've had Bobby ready to blow his brains out pumped through the building. The stench of whiskey, women, sex and drugs poisoned the air. People were laughing, hooting, cheering and calling out congratulations.

And all the while, Jack just prayed for it all to end.

Within 24 hours, Jack had delivered his father's message to Bradley Davis, put down another overdue client, Michael Tanner, and had taken part in a lethal launch against the Hanley crew. So many faces. So much death. Death and destruction, by his own hand.

And he had had fun.

Or, at least, Billy Darley did.

Bones had sent his son a little present that morning in the form of his number two man. Giordano Bilotti was just as cold, calculated and criminal as Bones. He gleefully accompanied Jack during his second "delivery" to Mr. Davis to ensure that the message was properly executed. Without missing a beat, they went straight to deal with this Michael Tanner Bones had deemed worthy of a visit. Bodie and Heco were also present for this, as this mark apparently invested in beefy, yet blundering bodyguards. They took out the hired hands easily, but the boss was left for Billy.

With watchful eyes drowning him, Jack had to bring Billy to the surface. He had to maintain the image. He had to uphold the lie. So he had fun. He laughed when Davis cowered, and showed no mercy when Tanner pleaded.

Before the sun had set on that already bloody day, Jack had personally stolen four lives from the world. Four futures gone. Four families forever altered. Criminal or not, Jack didn't differentiate. The members of the Hanley gang were young. They could easily have been Bobby or Jerry, had the two of them not walked away from the gangbanger life. They could've been cases right out of Evelyn's files, grown up after having fallen through the cracks. Some of them were younger than Joseph, and all of them were too young to die.

Jack flushed the toilet one final time before rising. He clung to the porcelain as he tried to summon the strength, and will, to stand.

Jack, though, would eventually stand. He also, would, in time, kill again. And then again.

He wasn't sure how much time had passed before he rejoined the party and replaced the mask of Billy Darley. He took drinks that were handed to him. He laughed at stories that made Jack's blood run cold. He shot darts and played pool and drank some more. He lost track of how many shots and beers he had downed before the night was through. It was just another escape. Jack could disappear into the drunkenness, while Billy thrived in it.

By the time Baggy brought over his sister, Jack was long gone and Billy was happily in the driver's seat. Billy nearly hauled the bubbly blonde upstairs. She certainly wasn't complaining at his eagerness, or greediness, when he pushed her against the wall. Their mouths collided as their tongues danced. His fingers found her hair as hers traced his head. She felt her lip begin to bleed and Billy drank in the liquid and pain. He enjoyed how it made her body quiver and he could almost taste the mixture of fear and pleasure radiating off of her. He pressed her harder against the wall, pinning her arms above her head. Her legs readily wrapped themselves around his waist. Her cherry heels dropped to the floor, and the two soon followed. Always, he was on top of her. Always, he was in control.

Billy ripped open her buttoned blouse as she lay underneath him on the wooden ground. She was already undoing his belt when he tore her bra away. He pulled her up to him, their lips crashing together once more. Their faces still intertwined, Billy lifted her up in his arms, dropping her atop the desk on the other side of the room. She impatiently drew his shirt over his head, while Billy just as feverishly pushed up her skirt. Billy's boxers pressed up against her bare skin, her heat nearly boiling him over.

The deafening music and horrible heaving was gone, but Jack somehow felt his skull still pounding. His eyelids and head were heavy. He knew this feeling. He remembered this. He just couldn't remember how he had obtained it this time. He stretched and shifted, yawning and reaching into the depths of his memories to find what he could last recall.

A shiver ran through Jack's body and he suddenly stilled. In that solitary moment Jack realized two very important things. First, he was freezing. Second, he was freezing because, in fact, Jack was naked.

A thin white sheet was all the shielded Jack from the world. There was another weight on him somewhere though. He blinked through the fog that was his mind and slowly turned his head to one side. A head of blonde tangles and tufts rested upon his outstretched arm.

A million thoughts, screams and curses chased their way through his brain and Jack continued to cling for some memory of how he had gotten to in such a position.

And then, like a punch, it all hit him.

He had blacked out entirely. Jack had allowed himself to drop away into the darkness. He had allowed Billy full control. The thought alone was enough to make Jack want to return to kissing porcelain. When Jack brought Billy to the surface, he was at least somewhat still there, still in some sort of control. This was different. Billy could have gone on a joyous murdering rampage and Jack would have been absolutely powerless to stop it.

If Jack had allowed himself to lose control, what else would he allow himself to do?


	16. The Call

**TITLE: **Second Life

**CHAPTER/TITLE: **Chapter Sixteen/ The Call

**RATING: **T (language and mature content)

**A/N: ** Update time! Phew. Finally. I have the next several chapters done already, I just couldn't locate my written copy of this for a while to type it up. You get a LITTLE Bobby in this chapter. This is where we start catching up with time. Don't worry, they'll have their reunion soon enough, but a lot has to happen first – and a LOT more after!

**DISCLAIMER: **I don't own Four Brothers or Death Sentence.

**Read**

**Review**

**Repeat **

**Chapter Sixteen: The Call**

Jack was still shifting between sleep and the sheets, trying not to make a run for the door when his cell phone rang. The blonde beside him sighed in the midst of disturbed slumber. With a feminine groan that sounded more like a purr to Jack, she rolled over, greeting his groggy gaze with a grin. Her pouting lips reached up to his eagerly and Jack vaguely wondered why he couldn't remember why her mouth tasted of strawberries. How could he have forgotten how soft and gentle her kisses were, despite their fervor. Billy didn't take the time to consider such things. All Billy Darley saw was a skirt with a pair of legs that were willing to open. Jack could sense the subtleties behind the girl. The way her eyes were hard like her brother's, but had this tendency to flash to something deeper, something soft and sincere. Something real.

"That sound means you're supposed to answer it," she said sarcastically.

Jack hadn't had any intention of answering the call. He knew it would probably be Bones with some new "project" for him to take care of. Without glancing at the girl or the phone, Jack brought the device to his ear.

"Yeah," his sleep slathered voice mumbled.

"Jack?"

Jack couldn't move. He couldn't think. He was pretty sure he stopped breathing at some point.

That voice. That voice, saying his name. he felt his heart split open in every possible direction. This wasn't a memory. This wasn't an illusion. He knew exactly who was on the other end of the line. And he knew exactly what he had to do.

"Who the fuck is this?" Jack forced a bite of Billy's hostility into his voice.

"Jack, shit, man. It's your fucking brother."

Jack's throat swelled and went dry. He had to think, fast. Not only was the conversation currenly being witnessed by one of his gang member's own sister, he had no doubt that his calls were also being monitored by someone under Bones' thumb.

"What about him?" Jack seized the opportunity in Bobby's question.

Jack knew his brothers. He knew they would do anything to get him back. He knew that they – especially Bobby – would come in with guns blazing. They would shoot first and ask questions later. Jack didn't want one of those questions being over Joe's dead body. As much as Jack didn't want his brothers risking their and Joe's lives by coming to his rescue, he knew they would never stop. If they could contact him, they could find him. At least Jack could make sure Bobby had all the information before barging in.

"It's Bobby. Where the hell have you been? Are you okay?"

The fierce concern in Bobby's booming voice was nearly enough to drag tears from Jack's hardened eyes. Still, he couldn't break character. He had his plan.

"If Joe is pulling some dumbass shit, or got his ass locked up again or whatever, I don't wanna fuckin' hear it, okay? Let the little bastard take care of his own damn self."

"_I'm _your brother, Jack. What the fuck is going on?"

Jack had to end this. Now. He couldn't keep it together much longer.

"Wrong number, asshole."

"What?"

"Only got one brother," Jack clipped, "and his name ain't Bobby."

"Jack, hey –"

Jack thought fast.

"Call this number again, and you're dead."

Jack slammed the device shut, satisfied he got the warning across without raising suspicion. Bobby knew Jack better than anyone else. If anyone could figure that all out, it was him.

"Joe in trouble?" The girl beside him sighed as she sensually traced circles across Jack's chest.

"When ain't he?" Jack sidestepped the question without really having to lie.

Moving in to steal a kiss of his own, she seemed to forget the phone call entirely. He was relieved. He couldn't keep answering any more questions. He couldn't keep the mask up for much longer. Not to mention he didn't desire to be thinking about Joe or Bobby while laying naked with a beautiful woman.

They crashed into each other with less force and animalistic intent than the previous night. Jack had the reigns now. He took time with her. Appreciated her small sounds of pleasure. Noticed her certain sweet spots. Soaked himself in her presence, her comfort. He didn't have to be Billy now. Sure, she'd notice the difference, but it wasn't something Jack guessed she'd confide in Baggy about.

The blonde fell back on to her side of the bed with a satisfied smile and a laugh. Jack realized then that she had a nice laugh. Delicate almost, like her smile.

"I don't think Joe's that bad," she mused to the ceiling several stretched moments later.

"Thinkin' 'bout my baby brother while we're fuckin' each other?" Jack tried to sound angry, but ended up chuckling.

"No," she slapped him lightly on the arm.

It was a brave move for anyone, especially a girl. Yet somehow, she seemed to know that there, alone, he wouldn't react.

"But he isn't," she continued. "He tries, you know, to be like you. Like your dad. He's trouble, I'll give him that. But he ain't no hard criminal. And you know what I think?" She didn't pause to let him answer. "Neither are you."

Jack stared at her, trying hard to scowl when all he wanted to do was smile.

"You put on a good show, yeah, but there's somethin' else goin' on in there," she poked his head. "Like Baggy," she sighed. "He's a good brother, a good friend. I think he could be a good guy. Get a job. Somethin' besides _this_. But he won't. he just stays, tryin' to prove our dad wrong."

When Jack didn't interrupt her sudden soul revealing story, she continued.

"He used to beat me, a lot. Baggy fought back. Kicked his ass a few times. Mostly just got himself fucked up. All for me. Dad would always say he was weak. Guess he's just trying to prove he's tough." She paused. "Like you."

Jack couldn't speak. The night before Billy Darley had dragged this girl upstairs and fed on her like a piece of meat. That's all he saw her as. Yet she was so much more. Jack knew, like him, she didn't belong in this world. None of them did.

No one did.


	17. Shedding the Skin

**TITLE: **Second Life

**CHAPTER/TITLE: **Chapter Seventeen/ Shedding the Skin

**RATING: **T (language and mature content)

**A/N: **

**DISCLAIMER: **I don't own Four Brothers or Death Sentence.

**Chapter Seventeen: Shedding the Skin**

Jack sat alone in a backroom of his father's shop. He knew the monster was gone and would be for several hours. It had been a brutal and bloody week. He had just finished handing over his earnings and a full report of recent activity to his father. Bones had left his son with the kindest words Jack had ever heard come from the man's mouth.

"Well, least you didn't fuck up too much."

With that, he was gone and Jack was left alone.

He couldn't go to the bar or his poor excuse of a home or even his gang's place. He wanted to be alone. He needed to be alone. He needed desperately to shed Billy Darley away, if only for a little while. Billy Darley did unspeakable things, but Billy Darley could handle it. He could take the abuse from his father. He could plant a bullet through an innocent man's head without blinking. Billy Darley could handle this life.

Jack Mercer couldn't.

He knew if he dropped the veil, he would crumble. But it had to be done. He couldn't stay Billy forever. If he did, Jack knew that slowly and surely, he would die. Jack Mercer would cease to exist as Billy Darley would swiftly take over on the surface permanently. He couldn't be that person. Right now it was only an act, a way of survival. He couldn't let it consume who he was.

With a broken and defeated sigh that was definitely of Jack and not Billy, Jack stumbled to his feet and to the hole of a bathroom. The mirror was cracked and coated with a film Jack didn't care to identify. He could still see himself though, or at least, he could see Billy Darley.

Jack absentmindedly ran a hand over his scalp where his beloved locks used to be. He vaguely trailed the edges of the tattoos that decorated his head and face. He thought of Angel and all of his brother's prized ink. With an angry grunt, Jack shed the long coat of Billy Darley. The simple action seemed to help Jack breathe better. In another quick motion, Jack pulled the black long sleeved shirt over his head and stared at his body. He found the familiar "Spares" scrawled across his arm and smiled bleakly. Amidst the other new body art, his original tattoos still showed through, pieces of Jack clinging to survive underneath the hardened new guise.

_"Starin' at yourself in here, you little fairy?"_

Jack heard his eldest brother's voice somewhere off in the distance and it nearly brought him to his knees. Memories began worming their way back to him. He hadn't heard the voices in months.

_"Why do you let him bother you?"_ Jerry's question was a mere whisper in the wind.

"I miss you guys," Jack spoke to his own reflection.

_"It's Bobby. Where the hell have you been? Are you okay?"_

"No," Jack answered the memory audibly.

Other memories were soon overpowering him now. _The feeling of his father's fists against his flesh. The taste of iron. The dark and dead look Joe would flash him. The snap of a bullet. Another's life in the palm of his hands._

_"Please, don't!"_ The memory pleaded for mercy. _"I'll do anything! I'll pay! I –"_

Billy Darley never offered mercy.

A sob ripped through Jack's throat, shaking his entire form as he collapsed back against the wall, slowly caving in on himself. He landed on the floor as the heavy tears finally came. He let them come. He welcomed the tearing agony and grief. He made way for the anger, despair and hopelessness. He clung to them. They kept him alive. They kept him from turning into the cold shell of a person he was watching his younger brother become.

The floodgates were just beginning to dry when footfalls echoed beyond the door. Jack stood, straightened, and reluctantly pulled the weighted coat on. He reached for the doorknob, but was met with the entire door swinging swiftly open. A familiar and detested face greeted him.

"What the hell are you doin' here?" Jack's harsh words were contrasted by his wavering tone.

"Just checkin' up on your father's investments. Looks like daddy doesn't trust his Billy-boy to take care 'a business," Gio sneered.

"I've been doin' business pretty fuckin' fine," Jack challenged coarsely

"From inside the bathroom of your father's shop? Been lookin' all over for you. I'm gonna be joinin' you and your little band of misfits tonight."

"I can take care 'a tonight just fine myself," Jack swallowed, knowing what Gio was referring to as Bones had already been speaking of it.

"Tonight ain't about you. I'm here about Joey. You can't stop this. You can't keep bullshitting and pussy footing around it. Time for little Joey to become a man."

"No," Jack nearly jumped forward. "You or Bones want something done, I'll take care of it. You want someone gone, I'll make them gone."

"Like I said, kid, tonight ain't about you. Either he does this, or he's out. And I mean _out_. Don't think I will hesitate to put a bullet in that little sh –"

Gio didn't finish his sentence. He was far too busy being tackled to the ground. Jack had his gun kissing Gio's forehead before the man could react.

"Go ahead. Do it." Gio taunted with a dark cackle. "See if daddy lets you get away with it. See who he decides to babysit you next. I hear Chief has a thing for Darley boys. I hear what he used to do to you while your old man watched, what he did with Joey after you were gone. I wonder if Joe remembers those nights. You think I should remind him? There are other ways to make him into a man."

"You sick fuck," Jack spat, shoving himself off of the man and leaping to his feet. "You stay away from him."

"And you do what the fuck you're told." Gio countered coldly.


	18. Light Under Darkness

**TITLE: **Second Life

**CHAPTER/TITLE: **Chapter Seventeen/ Light Under Darkness

**RATING: **T (language and mature content)

**A/N: ** Now we're catching up with Bobby/Jerry/Angel and Death Sentence timeline. I hope it's not confusing. And if you're wondering why the brothers aren't there yet considering it's only a 4 hour drive to Chicago from Detroit, you'll see why! Our boys are devising a plan…..

**DISCLAIMER: **I don't own Four Brothers or Death Sentence.

**Step 1: Read**

**Step 2: Review**

**Step 3: Repeat**

**Chapter Seventeen: Light Under Darkness**

Jack's fingers felt as though they were fusing with the steering wheel. He tried again and again to loosen his death grip, but couldn't. He was surprised he could even drive. His mind was reeling. Every life Jack took, stole with it a piece of him to the grave. He couldn't imagine what watching his little brother do the same would do to him. He couldn't fathom what the act would do to Joe. This was what he was so desperately trying to protect his Joey from. Now, Jack was personally chauffeuring his brother to his demise.

Joseph was a good kid. His exterior was that of a ruthless, angered animal. Anyone else who saw him would assume the worst. Of course, the same could be said of Jack – or Billy. Still, Jack knew there was light underneath all that darkness drowning his brother. He had to believe it. He had to believe that there was some shred of a soul worth saving. Otherwise, all his efforts were in violent vain.

He couldn't let his crew see him this way though. They all loathed Bones almost as much as Jack did, but that didn't mean much when it came right down to it. There was hatred, loyalty, and then there was survival. The pack would turn on its leader if need be. Bodie was about the only exception. Bodie truly did care about Billy and Joe, if nothing and no one else. Jack wouldn't not put it past Heco or Dog, or any other member of his gang, though, to take him out of the picture. They were none too pleased that he was back and put in charge with contest or question. If Jack had to put on a show for his father, he had to put on twice the show for his followers. They could never see Jack.

They had to see Billy.

They had to see Billy Darley, the boy who was taken, but the man who returned willingly and ready to lead. Only those closest to Bones and Billy knew the truth. Everyone else was fed lines about how tough and terrifying Billy Darley escaped prison. With how much Joseph seemed to despise him, Jack was surprised he went along with the fabricated story.

A car flashed its lights, bringing Jack swiftly and sorrowfully back to reality.

"Here we go," Gio chuckled darkly from the passenger seat.

"All you, Joe," Heco echoed the excitement from the backseat.

Without missing a beat, Jack spun the car around and sped back to catch up to the unfortunate driver. They raced around the offending car and disappeared into the darkness ahead. Jack sent the car down a side street, pulled a perfect 180 and idled. The other vehicle behind him followed suit. They waited for their target to pass and then stealthily made their way back onto the main road and followed.

They kept their headlights off and their speed low as they tailed the vehicle. A streetlamp shined on the victim's car and Jack almost slammed his brake.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Gio hissed, almost inaudibly.

"You see that car?" Jack matched the man's volume, but possessed tripled the intensity in his voice.

"Yeah, I saw it. So?"

"So, that ain't no Hanley boy. It ain't anybody from this neighborhood."

"You against killin' someone 'case they got a nice ride?" Gio scoffed. "Or were you hopin' your boy here could get in by offing some lowlife? That that would make it better – okay somehow?"

"No," Jack lied, but then another terrifying thought hit him. "Bones ain't gonna like this. Someone's gonna notice when this guy is gone. It's gonna go public."

"He'll be proud," Gio whispered dispassionately.

"He'll be fucking pissed," Jack argued through clenched teeth, hoping that the heavy metal pounding from the speakers was enough to drown out their discussion.

"You're already in this," Gio nodded at the car ahead of them, "you going to puss out now? You wanna turn around? Too late for that now. You gotta follow through, Billy-boy. Follow through or this crew is gonna eat you alive."

Jack shivered as the man spoke his previous thoughts. It was true. He had begun the chase. If he backed out now, he would be taken down off his pedestal for sure. Without him at the head of the pack, he would no longer be able to protect his brothers.

_Brothers._

Jack was brought swiftly back to the phone call that he was trying so desperately to forget. Hearing Bobby's voice after all this time brought Jack screaming to the surface. He had a difficult time turning back into Billy Darley after that. He longed for his older siblings. He yearned for their unyielding love and protection. If anyone could save him from this hell, it was them. And that was exactly why Jack had to keep them at bay. They couldn't come here. They couldn't see him like this. They couldn't save him. If they did, Jack was sure one or more of his brothers wouldn't survive the battle. Bones wasn't as sophisticated in his business as Victor Sweet, but that made him all the more dangerous. The men who worked under his father didn't have families to provide for or wives or reputations to protect. These were either desperate delinquents on the bottom of the food chain, or worse yet, sociopaths, psychopaths, or blood-thirsty, money-hungry monsters. They weren't about to be swayed by some deal from his brothers. There would be war.

Who would be lost? Would it be Bobby, charging in, shooting first, and asking questions never? Would it be Jerry, distracted by thoughts of his family or moments of moral hesitation? Would it be Angel, trying to take on as many opponents as he could?

What about Joey? Would Bones use his death as a weapon? Would he be caught in the crossfire?

What if Joe killed one of his other brothers – or what if one his other brothers killed Joe?

It was all too much of a risk that Jack wasn't willing to take. He would destroy his own life before putting his family in danger. He was going to get Joey out of this place. He was going to find a way to do so without intervention from his older siblings, even if it killed him.

"Perfect," he heard Gio purr beside him and looked to see the victim pulling into a gas station.

They slowed and studied the scene. The driver wasn't alone. A young boy probably no older than eighteen slid from the passenger seat and grinned on his way inside the decrepit convenience store attached to the station.

Heco passed around the ski masks from the backseat and Jack slid his on with an acidic feeling in his stomach. This was all becoming too familiar.

Middle of the night. Masks. Convenience store.

Sure, this was an entirely different situation. Yes, it was a gas station. Of course, the teenager inside was definitely not a 62 year old woman.

Still, it was enough to bring bile to his throat.

"Which one?" Heco asked eagerly.

Jack's eyes jumped back and forth from the obvious father and son. They were about to rip apart a family, just as Jack's had been.

"Choose," Gio grunted, "or I'll take all three of them out."

"The kid," Jack mumbled.

The teenager was younger, stronger. He had a better chance of surviving. Jack had overheard a story from one of Evelyn's cases. A father had taken a blade across his son's throat. The kid survived. When he we released from the hospital, he found his father and did the same to him. Dear old Dad made it to a hospital, just as his son had. But he never made it back out. The father was dead and the boy was in jail.

And he knew, if the tables were turned, Jack would have wanted the gunmen to pick him over his mother and he had been there and that was a decision to be made.

He knew it was still unforgivable. He knew it was still evil and selfish. He was choosing this. HE was playing God. He pained to think of Evelyn seeing her baby boy now.

They piled out of the cars in what looked like practiced precision. Their masks were on. Their guns were at their sides. Jack took the machete that Heco handed him with such blackness in his heart that he wanted to die right then and there. He would have to be the one to hand it to Joey. Joe might deliver the blow, but this boy's blood was going to be on Jack's hands.

As the pack descended upon the unsuspecting station, Jack forced himself down to the very depths of his being, and dragged Billy to the surface.


	19. What We Made Him

**TITLE: **Second Life

**CHAPTER/TITLE: **Chapter Nineteen/ What We Made Him

**RATING: **T (language and mature content)

**A/N: ** I didn't go into detail for the initiation killing because Jack let Billy take over, therefore it went exactly as it did in the movie. If you didn't see it, they go in, shoot the clerk, and then Joe slices the son's throat with a machete. This chapter picks up after, once they are leaving the gas station.

**DISCLAIMER: **I don't own Four Brothers or Death Sentence.

Review?

Is anyone still out there?

**Chapter Nineteen: What We Made Him**

It wasn't until Joseph was being sacked by the father of the boy they had just brutally murdered when a flicker of Jack surfaced. He couldn't stay for long. If he stayed, he would remember what they had done, what Billy had done. He would see the clerk's chest screaming open. He would remember the kid's terrified eyes, the father's pained screams. If he remembered right then in that moment, he wouldn't be Jack anymore. He wouldn't be Billy either. He would simply, be. His mind would shut down, his body following shortly after. He would stay standing in that street, unthinking and unmoving, until the police came to drag him away or the father exacted his revenge upon him.

Jack only gained control long enough to make Billy turn around. To make him go back for Joseph, who Billy deemed worthy enough now to fend for himself.

Billy had already been in the car when it happened. There was enough of Jack still struggling in him that he turned his head to check on his little brother. When he saw the man tackle Joseph to the ground, Jack flashed briefly to the surface and before he knew it, Billy was out of the car and charging toward the brawl.

Arms wrapped around him and Billy instinctually turned to plant a swift fist in his attacker's face. When Gio and Bodie suddenly came into view instead, Billy backed down.

"We gotta go, dog," Bodie implored his friend.

"Leave him," Gio hissed harshly.

"What?" It was both Jack and Billy barking now.

"He's got him," Bodie nodded toward Joseph who had beaten the father down and was now climbing to his feet.

"Joey!" Billy hollered back. "Move it!"

The group raced back to their idling vehicles and sped off into the night, neither car's party aware of the missing member of their pack.

Pulling into the parking lot of their dilapidated head of operations, Jack took the wheel in both senses. He was out of the car and slamming the door before the engine had time to shut off. He stalked toward the other vehicle in their little criminal parade. When Joseph neglected to pile out with the rest of his crew, Jack felt that sense of coming undone returning.

"Where the fuck is he?" He turned savagely on Bodie.

"Thought he was with you, dude," Bodie shrugged.

"Well he ain't!" Jack roared, Billy echoing in his words.

"He was right behind you guys," Tommy tried to defend his friend.

Without warning a bit of both Billy and Jack grabbed the young gang member by the back of the neck, slamming his face against Bodie's car window.

"You see him in there?" Billy's question wasn't one to be answered as he asked it again, this time dragging Tommy over to his own vehicle.

With a grunt, Jack tossed Tommy against the side of his car and turned towards the remaining members of his gang.

"Spread out," he ordered, "find him. Now!"

Gio was the only one who neglected to leap into action. The man sauntered over to the raging ringleader with ease and arrogance.

"This what you call takin' care of tonight?" He mocked.

"Shut up," Jack spat.

"You better find your boy," Gio warned, patting Jack's recoiling shoulders, "or your daddy will find you."

When Jack returned to the gas station not long later, it had been turned from a scene of initiation, into one of crime. He forced himself to hang back in the shadows, farther down the street. The glaring yellow tape seemed to scream against the darkness of night. Parking his car a safe distance away, Jack slunk closer to the crowd, still keeping hidden along the way.

" – down, ma'am," a velvety voiced police officer was consoling a distraught and disheveled middle aged woman. "I need you to tell me exactly what happened."

"I – I can't – not – I already told the lady on 9-1-1. Look, I need to get home to my kids. I was just stoppin' in to get some milk. It's the only place open for miles."

"And that's when you saw the young man in the road?"

Jack tensed. His gut was already telling him who that young man was.

"Please – don't make me tell it again. It was – so – awful."

"It's okay. You can do this. Just tell me what you told the woman when you called 9-1-1."

The cop sounded more like a counselor than a man of the law. Jack could tell the man had had his fair share of experience with traumatized witnesses. His demeanor reminded Jack of Detective Greene. Jack's homesick thought train was derailed as the woman finally began to speak again.

"I – I was drivin' up the road over there when I seen him. He was just lyin' there in the middle of the street. He wasn't layin' right, though, you know? He was all – twisted up funny. Thought he was dead. When I went over to him, he woke up and tried to get up. I told him not to move, but he started runnin'. Didn't get far. Fell right over after a couple steps. Kid was out cold."

Jack released a breath he thought he would never let go. Joey was alive. Nothing else mattered. He almost began to walk away when she continued her story.

"That's when I went inside," the woman's voice trembled and Jack felt his body doing the same. "I was gonna get help. And – and – I went inside – and there was – blood. It was everywhere. I went 'round back – and – and he – the guy –"

Words could no longer be heard through her shaking sobs. Jack felt like weeping as well. Of course, he also felt like heaving. He hadn't laid a finger on this woman, and yet he had still touched her life in a way that could never be taken back. Another life forever damaged because of him.

A younger female officer came over and escorted the crying woman away as a lanky policeman approached.

"Blood trail goes from inside the building to outside in the parking lot, right over there," the gangly officer informed the older man. "From the amount of blood loss, it looks like we got ourselves two vics, not including the kid found in the street."

"So, we got a dead store owner, a kid in critical and now a missing body." The other officer sighed.

_Critical?_ Jack found it difficult to focus on the conversation with that word banging around in his head. Of course, _missing_, was also floating around up there. Their mark, the son, was gone. Hope sparked inside of Jack's hardening heart. Maybe he had survived.

"Rick, you're gonna wanna hear this," the young female officer returned in a jog. "Dispatch just gave us a possible 187."

"Another one?" Rick shook his hand.

"Or the same one," she replied with a raised brow. "Bates told me it looks like we're missing a body. This kid came into the ER, throat slashed. Dad brought him in. Said it happened here."

"So one is shot in the chest, the other is either beaten or hit by a car, and the third has his throat cut?" Rick ran a hand over his forehead. "Think we know what this looks like," he sighed with a shake of his head.

"Think she's gonna know too," Bates nodded towards a new addition to the crowd of cops and onlookers.

A middle aged woman with a soft dark complexion but hard facial features was quickly approaching. Her long coat came almost all the way down to meet her heeled shoes. There was no question as to who she was. Jack didn't feel like slinking around with detectives now on the scene. As quietly as he had come, Jack descended back into the shadows and to his concealed car.

Jack was going crazy. And not the Billy/Jack-internal-war-that-was-driving-him-to-in sanity-crazy. When it came to waiting, both pieces of the personality took pretty much the same irritated and infuriated stance. He knew he couldn't have very well simply walked into a hospital where his little brother was under the careful watch of doctors, nurses – and cops. But he couldn't allow himself to merely stand by and do nothing. He hated the waiting, but he loathed the not knowing even more. Several times he had sent one of his less criminally recognizable men to check on Joseph.

His brother had finally been released from the hospital, but only to be put in police custody. They took him straight from his hospital bed to a jail cell and a lineup. Jack had Heco and Bodie keep surveillance on the cop shop and expected frequent reports. He even was receiving updates from one of Bones' paid police pawns.

It had taken all of his willpower to not charge over there when he was told of his baby brother being brought into court. As much as he didn't desire to see Joey locked up, he couldn't keep his family safe from behind his own set of bars.

He was already in his car and waiting when the call finally came in. Jack was pretty sure his jaw was what dropped and pushed the gas pedal as he sped toward the courthouse. He didn't have time to question the miracle right then. All he cared about was seeing Joseph, making sure for himself that his brother was okay.

Jack wasn't surprised when Joe shrugged off his hug when they finally reunited outside the courthouse. It didn't bother him as much as normal. He was simply elated to see the stupid, stubborn kid alive. Once the relief had washed over, reality quickly came back into focus. Jack didn't waste any time pulling Joey off to the side as their friends cheered him on.

"What did he say – _exactly_?" Jack turned on Joe with a harsh whisper.

"I dunno," Joe shrugged, "said it was dark or some shit. Dude was fuckin' shakin' he was so scared."

"He wasn't scared," Jack replied knowingly.

"'Course he was. He –"

"He wasn't scared!" Jack roared. "Damn it, Joe. We killed his fuckin' son. We took away his family."

"Yeah? So?"

"So you should feel something! Something besides fuckin' excitement." Jack shook his head and sighed. "He wasn't scared. He's smart."

"What the hell are you sayin', Billy?"

"I'm _sayin' _that this ain't over. I don't want you bein' anywhere alone for a few days."

"What? That's bullshit. That –"

"Mom _died _–"

"And you don't remember!"

"Doesn't matter. Mom _died_. She wasn't killed. You ever lost family, little brother? And I don't mean they just died. You ever someone taken away from you? Murdered? I have. You don't get scared. You get revenge. You don't stop until you do, no matter what. You stop carin' about your own damn self and only care about finding the motherfucker and ending him."

"So what if that prick comes at us? At me?" Joey laughed. "You think we can't take him? Think _I_ can't take him?

"All I know is that – when someone – when someone is ripped from your fucking life, it changes you. When you lose someone like that –" Jack stopped himself. "You got no idea what this man is capable of now. What we made him capable of."


	20. Man Down

**TITLE: **Second Life

**CHAPTER/TITLE: **Chapter Twenty/ Man Down

**RATING: **T (language and mature content)

**A/N: ** Again, it's been awhile. Yes. I know I can never be forgiven for the delay. My sincerest apologies! ….To be honest though I have kind of hit a wall in my life. I am really glad I either have future chapters written or at least thought through in my head. It's not writer's block. It's life. I'm losing motivation and gaining apathy and lethargy. I've dealt with depression since I was a kid so don't worry about me or anything. It's just decided to rear its ugly head right when I'm facing some really hard things in my life. So if I don't update for a while (on top of the lack of a computer) it's because I am trying to sort out ..well...my entire life pretty much. Appreciate you guys understanding.

…..I also appreciate reviews ;) …oh, and Garrett Hedlund…definitely appreciate him

**DISCLAIMER: **I don't own Four Brothers or Death Sentence.

**Chapter Twenty: Man Down**

"Come on, dog," Bodie nudged Billy's shoulder with his shot glass. "We should be celebratin', man."

Jack glanced up at the gang member leaning over him, shot glass in one hand and a bottle of beer in the other. Jack quietly accepting the bottle and took a short swig.

"Where's your head tonight, Billy?" Bodie questioned as he dropped himself into the chair closest to their ringleader. "You been somewhere else all damn day."

"'M fine," Jack mumbled, bringing the bottle to his lying lips.

"You forget we grew up together, man," Bodie shook his head. "I know when you're lyin'."

Jack cocked an eyebrow at the irony and false nature of the statement. The entire person sitting in front of Bodie was a lie and he couldn't see it, or maybe just chose not to. Maybe Bodie was just as lonely as Jack in all of this and he knowingly overlooked any differences or questionable behavior on his leader's part simply to hang onto his once friend. In truth, Jack liked Bodie and for the most part enjoyed his company and friendship. He reminded him of Jerry, always the smooth talker and always the one to know when Jack was hiding something underneath the surface. Jeremiah had been involved in his fair share of street trouble before his days as a Mercer and Jack idly wondered if he was anything like Bodie. Maybe there was hope for the gang member. Maybe one day it would be Bodie dreaming of a family and real estate.

Jack shrugged off the sentiment as he swallowed another mouthful of cheap beer. He couldn't afford those thoughts. Not for Bodie, not for Jerry. He had to stay focused, now more than ever. It was bad enough with the ever looming threat of Bones and Gio hanging over him and the constant threat of attack from the Hanley crew. Now Jack had to worry about this Nicholas Hume.

This Nick Hume. This man. Husband. Father.

_This threat. This target_.

_No._

Jack shoved Billy's lingering thoughts away. Both Jack and Billy knew that Nick Hume could now possibly pose as a threat. Billy's arrogance tended not to pay him much mental mind. If anything, he viewed him as a target. An insect that if it became to annoying he would merely swat.

Jack knew different.

Jack knew the true danger Nicholas Hume now posed them. He also knew that this man was no target. He was a victim. A victim of senseless, violent, stupidity. A pawn in Bones' game. An innocent bystander caught in the crossfire between Billy and Jack, between Bones and his sons. It didn't matter. Jack blamed himself and always would. Now, yet again, he was forced to choose between another's life, and the life of his brother. If Nick did retaliate, if the father did try to avenge the son's murder, what would Jack do? Could he really kill the man he had already robbed of so much? Could he really steal away another member of that family?

But could he risk Joey?

"Yo, Billy? You even listenin' to me, man?"

Jack blinked and focused on the talking image in front of him. He hadn't even noticed Bodie had still been speaking to him.

"You okay, dude?"

If Jack wasn't pretending to be Billy right then, his features might have softened for the first time in a long time. Bodie truly cared about him. He just might be the only person within 100 miles that did. Of course, his faithful friend didn't know the truth about Billy, about Jack. Would he be so faithful then?

"Tired," Jack grunted and then glanced around. "Tommy!"

The young man who so eerily resembled himself reluctantly removed his face from a blonde woman he had yet to learn the name of and made a show of swaggering over to his leader. Tommy was always trying to impress Billy, look like him, dress like him, even talk like him. According to Bodie's stories, he had been doing the same since they were all kids. In a life Jack couldn't even remember, he had protected Tommy, apparently even saved his life once when his dad tried to drown him. Jack had a hard time thinking about Billy protecting anyone, other than maybe Joseph.

And then Jack went rigid.

He was doing it again. Thinking about Billy as if he were a separate person, a _real _person.

"Tommy," Jack spoke and shook his head, shaking loose the disturbing thoughts. "I need you to go keep an eye on Joe tonight."

"You sure?" Tommy wasn't speaking out of insolence, but shock, a scoff catching the end of his words. "Don't think he really wants me watchin' what he's doin' right 'bout now if you know what I mean. Don't think I really wanna watch that either."

"Outside, idiot," Jack snapped. "Go there, park outside, and keep an eye out."

"Keep an eye out?" Tommy almost laughed. "For what?"

"Just fuckin' _sit there." _Jack seethed in a tone Tommy knew not to further question. "And if you fall asleep or get high or go off with some broad or do anything else except what I fuckin' tell ya, I will personally hand you over the Hanley brothers. Got it?"

Tommy gave a sharp and swift nod, almost soldier-like, and hurriedly left the bar. Jack followed the young man with his eyes until he disappeared behind the door. Jack dropped his gaze and his head, silently releasing a breath.

Tommy would obey his orders. He knew that. He also knew that he would be less likely to go for blood if Nick Hume showed up. Tommy was brave and reckless and violence-driven like the rest of them, but he would never risk letting Billy down. If Nick did make an appearance, Tommy would call him first. And if Nick did somehow manage to slip by in this neighborhood and go after his little brother, Tommy would put his focus to getting Joe away safely, even if that meant dragging the kid kicking and screaming, instead of antagonizing the bereaved father as Heco, Jamie, and especially Baggy, would do.

The part of him that was Billy laughed at this rationalization. Jack was trying desperately to convince himself he was doing the right thing. He couldn't go and babysit his brother. It would look far too suspicious and Bones would certainly hear of it. Besides, the selfish parts of both Jack and Billy wanted a break from it all. It had been a long couple of days, and both personalities, no matter how self-sacrificing, or in Billy's case prideful and stubborn, they were, needed rest.

Without another word to anyone, even Bodie who was now fixing him with a worried gaze, Jack pushed himself away from the table and departed from the small party. There was a back room that the owner willingly, or maybe not so willingly with regard to the gang lord's reputation, often allowed Jack to crash in. He certainly wasn't going home to spy on baby brother or listen to him get his money's worth with that hooker he had begrudgingly bought him.

Instead, Jack let his weary body belly flop onto the poor excuse for a bed. He welcomed the sleep that almost instantly overtook him, eating away at his utter exhaustion, almost happily slipping away into the nightmares he knew were always awaiting him.

Little did he know, that a real, live nightmare was unfolding as he slept.

Tommy's eyelids were heavy, fatigue and alcohol weighing them down. He drummed his fingers against the steering wheel. When that didn't work to keep his eyes afloat, Tommy lazily rolled down the window, leaning his head out into the cool of the night.

He was across the street of the apartments. He wanted to follow Billy's instructions, but he didn't want to risk being seen by Joseph. The kid could be one mouthy, annoying – and violent – individual. If he thought Tommy had been sent to babysit him, the rage would be Billy-sized.

It wasn't until his head was outside the window that he noticed the man. He was walking toward the building, with the sort of walk that certainly didn't belong to this neighborhood and was definitely up to something. He spotted Baggy's sister and she too noted the stranger suspiciously. She continued on and so did the man, disappearing into the dark. Tommy's gut prompted him to get out of his car and cross the road. His eyes roamed the lot and building to find the stranger to no avail.

"Tommy, what the hell are you doin' here?"

"Shut up," Tommy whispered to the girl, catching her arm as she moved past him. "Go get your brother. Tell him to tell Billy to get down here, _now_."

Tommy didn't want to wake their leader for nothing and was sure he would catch hell for panicking over some false alarm, but something convinced him it was definitely more than nothing. The lot of them had spent their entire lives around danger, facing death at just about every possible corner. Tommy had enough street smarts and enough of an aching gut to know that something was not right.

His suspicions were confirmed as a crashing clamor broke the night's silence. Tommy bolted towards the source of the sound without a second thought. He barely had time to process the struggle that he soon stumbled upon. With a holler, he pulled the man away from a wild Joseph and into the brick wall.

And then, it happened.

It wasn't just the man Tommy was pushing. Without Nicholas Hume even trying, the knife in his hand greedily plunged itself into the young man's abdomen. Tommy and Nick's eyes were about as wide as the wound in his stomach as the gang member released the man from his grasp and stumbled backwards. Nick, despite his shock and guilt, seized the opportunity and fled.

Rage and adrenaline and youth pumping through his veins, Joseph made a start to chase after the coward. As he past Tommy, the older man began crumpling to the ground. Joe caught his friend before his face could kiss the cement. Curses decorated his lips as Joey tried in vain to block the bleeding with his trembling hands. He had seen his fair, or maybe unfair, share of deaths in his short lifetime. He was far used to the violence and the carnage that came with it. He had even now taken a life on his own volition, with his own two hands. Still, this was different. The kid in the gas station was a stranger. The random rival gangbangers or doped up delinquent customers were no one to him. Joseph had grown up with Tommy, considered him a friend, which was a rarity with the lives people like them led. Besides that, Tommy had been trying to protect Joe. _The idiot._ Joe wasn't a baby. He didn't protecting. He didn't need saving. And he certainly didn't need his friend dying for him.

He watched in muted horror as the tough criminal cradled in his arms had tears cascading down his cheeks. He couldn't speak as the man he had known for his entire life drew in his final, shuddering breath, his once passionate eyes now vacant. Almost tenderly, Joey drew his friend's eyelids down and rested the shell of a man on the ground. With one last sorrowful look, Joseph lifted and shifted his gaze. His features hardened. He was once again that wild animal, dangerous – deadly.

Joseph leapt up and sprinted out in the direction his attacker had run. He frantically searched the parking lot and then the street. The coward was long gone. He needed to release his rage on something, or someone. Anything. Anyone. There wasn't a single soul in sight.

The fury sweating out from underneath his skin, Joe returned to the back alley. He didn't even offer his fallen friend a glance this time. He was still charging forward when his fist met the side of the dumpster. The pain didn't even register. He continued to punch and kick the metal until his knuckles were dotted red and his ankle most surely bruised. His hands then turned to throwing. He picked up anything he could find and launched it into the brick wall. It was only when he punched that same brick that he stopped. That the aching set in. That all of it set in.

Sliding down to the ground and not caring that the brick scraped his back on the way down or how the palm of his hand landed on a piece of broken glass. It wasn't the physical pain that he had finally felt. It was something far worse. Something Joe usually was numb to.

Joe's heart was torn brutally open, as if it had been stabbed by the coward's blade. It was the worst pain he could imagine. But it was nothing compared to what happened next. He couldn't stop it this time.

The tears burned his skin as they sliced down his cheeks.


End file.
